Between Two Points
by NeverQuiteAwake
Summary: [sequel to Learn Me Right] Following a devastating attack on her home, Eirlys finds herself travelling to Earth in search of those responsible. Once there, she and those closest to her are called upon by the mortals to fight a foe who they cannot hope to face alone. Eventual AU. Loki/OC
1. The Bitter Cold

**Important Author's Note**: To any newcomers, just in case you missed it in the summary, this is the sequel to _Learn Me Right_. If you're interested, please click through my profile to read part one first, otherwise I'm fairly certain none of this will make any sense.

To my returning readers, welcome to part two!

**Rated T** for violence, mild language, and some sensuality.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for Eirlys and her fellow OCs.

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**ONE**

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_the bitter cold_

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_I watch as the branches of the willow tree sway in the light of the rising sun. Spring is encroaching upon Asgard; the air is warm, and the sun peers over the horizon just a little earlier each day. The flowers are beginning to bloom, colours bright and varied in the garden below. As I look out at the Rainbow Bridge, I think of all the worlds I wish to see. Of the adventures I have yet to partake in._

_I smile when I feel his hands sliding over my robe, his arms coming to wrap around my waist. His long fingers toy with the silk tie resting at my midsection. I lean back against him, the nape of my neck pressed to his shoulder. "What has your mind so entranced?" he murmurs, his breath caressing the shell of my ear._

_Reaching back, I play with a corner of the bed sheet hanging from his hips—the only thing he appears to be garbed in. The thought sends a twist of pleasurable heat curling through my abdomen. "I was merely thinking about the worlds I have yet to see... like Midgard," I reply. "I've seen most everything else in the Nine Realms. All that I care to see, at any rate."_

_"Hm, yes. I daresay you would not hope to see Jotunheim." My heart races when one of his cool hands glides down my side to massage the exposed skin of my thigh. "Or Muspelheim for that matter."_

_I lean to the side to regard Loki, his eyes glinting in the light. "Have you been to Muspelheim?" _

_He hums in confirmation. "Briefly. On a foolish venture that allotted me a fair bit of scolding from my father."_

_"Oh?" It's a challenge to withhold my grin. "But how did you enjoy your little venture?"_

_His chest seems to vibrate against my back as he chuckles. "Let me just say that I am not overly fond of fire and brimstone."_

_A laugh escapes my lips in return, and I tuck my head in the curve of his throat. "And what of Midgard? I continually ask Fandral about the mortals, but he only ever talks about how fair their maidens are. How different are the humans from the writings I've read, I wonder."_

_"They are not all that you think. They fight amongst themselves endlessly, in a never-ending vie for power. Mere decades past, they suffered a great war—millions were slaughtered. Nevertheless, they've entered into another, massacring each other, death spilling across their lands," he tells me. "And for what? They are little and petty, like animals fighting over a bone."_

_I tilt my head back to give him a pointed look. "They sound no different from us."_

_He lets out a breath of laughter. "A fair point."_

_Voices suddenly resound in the garden._

_I jump back upon seeing the garden maids coming out to tend the blossoming flowers growing at the garden's wall. "Oh, Norns," I mutter. "They'll see us if we linger here a moment longer."_

_It takes every bit of restraint to keep from moaning while one of his hands slips beneath my robe, the other tugging at the fastening. His mouth is at my ear when he speaks, "Then might I suggest coming back to bed?"_

My eyes flickered open, and the light of the sun was replaced with a persistent gloom. I blearily glanced about before coming to realize that I was curled on the floor of the watchtower—the tallest turret in the Alfheim palace, and the warmest. The room was barely several yards wide, but it was enough to fit half a dozen people. All the same, it was rarely occupied by more than a few of us.

Lifting my head, I observed Castien sitting some ways to my right. Deep in reverie, he'd fletched arrow after arrow, a neat little stack piling at his feet. Across from me, Faradei knelt by the window. He had the shutters open, allowing the snow to trickle inside. With his keen senses, he seemed to notice I was awake first. He turned to me with a gentle smile. "Good morrow, Eirlys."

I blinked and swallowed against my dry throat. "How early is it?"

"Difficult to say," Faradei said, leaning against the window frame. He made some vague gestures at the sky with one hand. "The endless torrent of snow has blotted out the sun."

Craning my neck, I could see the blizzard raging on. The sight sent a shiver through my body. It was not the chill that bothered me, but the trepidation churning within. The bitter cold climate had been burying us deeper and deeper in snow for nigh on a week now. With a frown, I leaned back, nestling closer to the brazier that sat in the corner.

Brow raised, Castien lowered the arrow in his hands and surveyed me. "Did you have a vision?"

I was not surprised he could discern that I had seen something in my sleep—something more than just a dream. He always seemed to know, especially when it was a notably disturbing vision. Though my visions were never quite as vivid as they had been in Asgard, every few months, I would see flashes of... fire. All bright blues and reds. Like burgeoning stars. And I would always awake with a searing heat lingering on my skin. Despite the terror they roused, I could not comprehend their meaning.

"No, it was not a vision." I leaned my head back against the stone wall, my gaze straying to the ceiling. "It was a memory." But what was odd about this particular dream—this memory—was that it _felt_ like the visions I used to have. It was vivid and stark, and I could feel everything. All the emotion. Every sensation.

"Was it a pleasant memory?" Castien asked, a small smile playing at his lips. I glanced his way, my cheeks flushing. "Ah, I see."

Clearing my throat, I sat upright, and the journal I'd left lying across my chest slid down into my lap. Some of the pages were beginning to curl and wrinkle, yet Loki's writing remained steadfast on the parchment. I felt a pang of sadness every time I looked at it. A year now. A year since I'd last seen Loki. Since he banished me from Asgard and played a hand in the destruction of the Bifrost. And I felt no closer to finding him.

I ran my hands over the supple leather, grazing the worn pages with the tips of my fingers. Pages I'd read and reread near constantly in the hopes that I would discover a way to Midgard from Alfheim. Although I'd studied the magic and all its complexities, there was no information regarding a path I could take to the human world. Even with Lord Meyrick's assistance, I still could not find the answer. But I would persevere. As soon as the winter passed, I had every intention of scouring the land for a passageway now that I understood what to look for.

With a deep breath, I carefully closed the journal and held it close to my chest.

Movements gradual and slow, I rose to my feet and sauntered across the room. Beside Faradei, I stooped to peer out the open window, the roaring winds thrusting freezing air into the chamber. I braced myself against the frame and cast a spell to ward off the cold. Squinting against the flurry, I could perceive the outlines of the two towers flanking either side of the entrance hall. For a moment, I feared they'd both been buried beneath the snow, but I noticed the faint flicker of firelight peeking through. Someone was on watch still, thankfully.

Our defences were poor, far poorer than they should've been; there was nothing that could be done to change that, as much as we needed it. When the winter came, it carried with it a harsh and endless snowstorm. For but a moment, it had ceased, allowing Faradei's scouts to assess the conditions. It was then, in little more than a fleeting glimpse, that they discovered the Chitauri making their approach. Their numbers had grown, but that was all that could be discerned, for the snow resumed, and our scouts were forced to return to the palace.

After close to a year of meandering through our lands, the Chitauri were making their advance towards us at last. Yet we were unable to intervene. As of now, we could not be certain how close they remained, or if they were still on the move. All we could do was wait and see.

Turning away from the window, I did a cursory once over of the room. Castien continued to fletch his arrows, his quiver near bursting by now. In the far corner there lay a pile of blankets where my handmaiden often waited on me, yet it appeared she was now absent. "Where has Arlessa gone?"

"She has gone to prepare your things for the day," Castien replied, running his fingers over a handful of feathers. "Gone to prepare your royal garb, I assume."

I glanced down at my leather and metal attire, a set of armour that formerly belonged to Sif. It was the only set I'd brought with me from Asgard, now well-worn, the dark blue trimmings faded. I'd taken to wearing it since the Chitauri began their approach, though I hadn't gotten into the habit of bearing my sword—the nobles in the palace seemed to take less kindly to that.

"Did you not say you hoped to provide a distraction for the younglings?" Faradei said. "We've been trapped in the palace for a week now. They've been growing restless."

"Oh, Norns, I almost forgot." I sighed and ran a hand through my rumpled hair. As their future queen, I'd been advised to provide the people with all they needed. And now, at a time like this, they needed comfort and a gentle hand. I did not think myself up to the task, but I would do my best nevertheless. "I suppose I'll wait for Arlessa to make her return. There is no sense in chasing her down if she comes back here."

Castien hummed, tightening the string on his bow. "Everyone has been restless. I think we've all gone a little mad."

"Indeed, some of our scouts have been making desperate attempts to survey the lands, even in this weather," Faradei said.

My brow lifted. "And have they seen anything?"

Wry amusement crinkled the corners of Castien's eyes when he glanced my way. "No, they can't see more than a foot in front of them. We had to drag some of them back inside before we lost sight of them from the towers."

After a moment, he looked out the window, his gaze darting left and right. The humour seemed to fade from his expression. "This is the worst winter we've had in centuries. Our defences are weak, and, despite our expectation for it, we would still be caught unawares by any attack."

"Father has done all he can to prepare our people for such an instance," Faradei said. "The number of guards patrolling our walls has been bolstered. We do no more than hope for the best now."

"We do no more than anticipate conflict, more like." Expression grave, Castien levelled his gaze with his brother's. "The Chitauri encroach upon us, of that I have no doubt. For once, we are fortunate that our father has a penchant for war."

The blare of a horn echoed somewhere in the distance.

My heart dropped. Faradei and I leaned towards the window, while Castien saw fit to wedge himself between us. The blizzard seemed to have died down just enough for us to be able to see a mile radius around the watchtower. I shielded my eyes from the snow and wind yet was unable to perceive anything amiss.

Again, the horn sounded.

"I see them," Faradei murmured.

I was bereft of their Elf eyes. "Have they arrived at last?"

"Chitauri," Castien confirmed, bending forward until he was half out the window. "I count several scores... a hundred, maybe more." That did not bode well.

Faradei nodded. "As do I."

I clutched onto the green crystal resting at my collarbone; not a day went by when I didn't wear it. It gave me strength when I needed it the most. "What weapons do they bear?"

Before anyone could answer, a blast of energy came surging through the flurry. It exploded against one of the towers below, the stone structure crumbling like a house of tiles.

Castien cursed, drawing back to slam the shutters closed. He grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the stairs, Faradei on our heels. "Come, we must ensure the safety of our people."

We descended, flying down the winding steps, as the third call of the horn drifted through the air. This time it was cut short. Castien and I slowed, exchanging a look of dread before continuing our way.

Upon reaching the bottom, we were faced with the clamour and chaos that resounded throughout the palace: guards barking orders down corridors, warriors hurrying to and fro to fortify the gates, servants rushing to get our people to refuge. The princes of Alfheim were quick to spring into motion, starting down the hall with me in tow. Mere moments later, Arlessa came dashing towards us.

"Your Highness!" she called. We met her in the middle of the corridor, people hastening past us all the while. "Your Highness, I have spoken to Captain Leto. He bid me to tell you that all civilians are being gathered in the throne room."

Castien nodded. "Good, it remains the safest place right now."

"I want you to go there immediately," I told Arlessa. "They will be closing the portcullis and barring the doors soon."

For the span of a breath, Arlessa looked at me, ashen, before proffering the weapon I hadn't realized she was carrying. "I thought it prudent to bring this to you."

Though a palpable fear churned in my stomach, I could not keep from smiling. Without hesitation, I took Silvertongue from her, the black lacquered scabbard shining in the flickering firelight. In exchange, I pressed Loki's journal into her hands. "Keep this safe."

"Verily, my lady."

"I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would flounder, of course."

Then, with a quavering smile, she was off, running in the direction of the throne room alongside numerous other servants.

Swallowing thickly, I rejoined Castien and Faradei, the two of them already discussing a plan of action. "Worry not for the small gates; they will be well manned," Castien said to Faradei. "I want you to ensure none of the civilians are left behind. We cannot allow them to be trapped outside the throne room."

He let out a breath prior to turning towards me. "Eirlys, I need you to be in there with them. Speak to the people, keep them calm, and stay with them. They will heed you."

A part of me didn't like the idea of staying out of the conflict. Our numbers were no match for the Chitauri. Even though King Tylock had called to muster our warriors, most of them were unable to make the journey to the palace. All the same, I did not think Castien's request unreasonable. The people needed a guiding hand; I might not have been queen, but I was all they had. "Yes, of course." I cast a glimpse at the path Arlessa had taken before fastening my sword to my belt. "And what of you, Castien?"

"I will be in the entrance hall. Father will be there, and the Chitauri will no doubt seek to face us head on."

With that, Castien nodded to the both of us, and we parted ways, heading for our predetermined destinations: Faradei and I to the throne room, Castien to the palace gates. Armed guards stormed past us, bowing their heads to us curtly as they went by.

We maintained a silence between us while weaving through the corridors. The number of guards thinned the deeper we traversed into the palace. Protocol required that they remained at their posts in the event of a siege. But our numbers were scarce, and they would surely serve a better purpose at the forefront.

Together, Faradei and I marched across an enclosed bridge, coming to a stop before the throne room itself. Several guards stood close at hand, fully prepared to lower the portcullis upon command. I could see dozens of Light Elves inside, huddling together in groups. Children with wide, frightened eyes. Parents who could offer no comfort. They were all so steeped in terror, I doubted anything I could say would assuage the feeling.

"Our numbers are too few," Faradei said softly.

He was right, I knew. If it hadn't been for the storm, maybe—just maybe—we would have some certainty of our protection. My stomach twisted further; I couldn't help but think that if the Bifrost hadn't been destroyed, the Asgardians might've been able to come to our aid. But it seemed fate and chance were not on our side.

I took a deep breath and tried to console him. "Do not dwell on our numbers. We have a strength and spirit that will see us through."

Faradei faced me, bearing the smallest of smiles. My attempts at reassurance did little. But perhaps it was enough.

"Prince Faradei!"

We both looked round to see Captain Leto waving him down. "We are in need of your assistance, Your Highness."

Faradei nodded to him before placing a hand on my shoulder. "Be safe, Eirlys."

"And you take care," I replied. "Keep an eye on Castien, if you can."

All he could give me was the solemn incline of his head. In the blink of an eye, he was following the captain of the guard back over the bridge.

As I stood in the doorway the led into the throne room, I could barely breathe. The guards watched me, their expressions stoic, but I saw the fear in their eyes. Fear, not for themselves, but for the men, women and children in their keep. And if they were afraid, I could only imagine how terrified those men, women and children inside must've been.

Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself and strode into the throne room. It was a circular chamber, reinforced stone and iron lining the walls. Below, deep below, there were tunnels that would lead beneath the mountain and to the seashore. It was to be our last resort, one I desperately hoped to avoid, for the snows were heavy and I doubted our people would be able to contend with such conditions for long.

The throne itself sat at the far end, atop a small dais. It was nothing more than a heavily cushioned chair, empty now save for the large coronet set atop a velvet pillow: the king's crown.

My mouth went dry when I realized all eyes were on me. I was their princess—destined to be their queen consort. The thought never failed to inspire alarm in me, even after all these years of being married to the crown prince. They would look to me for guidance and comfort. Just as I had looked to Frigga.

I saw Arlessa standing amidst a group of Light Elf children, calming them with the same soft tones she'd used to soothe me in my youth. My ladies-in-waiting were gathered nearby, fearful, but attempting to feign otherwise. Driana stood with her arms around Mhalia, the youngest of my ladies, and offered me a tremulous smile. I knew she worried after Castien, and there was nothing that could dissolve such unease.

Peering through the crowd, I found Lord Meyrick, my steadfast mentor. He nodded to me with encouragement, and I was all too aware that words needed to be shared. It was my duty to instil calm in our people, regardless of the storm brewing within.

Clearing my throat, I walked across the throne room, Elves parting in my path like they'd done for Castien so many times before. I stopped just at the foot of the throne and clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. "My people... please heed my words." I glanced across the chamber full of people, each and every one of them turning their gazes towards me. "I know you are all very afraid. And I cannot tell you not to fear, for I feel very much the same." My voice wavered as I pressed on, "What I ask of you is not a simple task: have faith. Have faith in our warriors. Have faith in one another. We will endure this trial, in that you have my word."

I took in a shaky breath and picked my way down the steps where Meyrick came to my side. He smiled upon me, taking one of my quaking hands within his own. "You did well, Eirlys," he said. "It takes much courage to admit you're afraid."

Shaking my head, I returned his smile with a dry one. "Courage is something I seem to be lacking as of late."

"Courage will find you when you need it most," Meyrick replied.

I wanted to take his reflection to heart, but waves of doubt drowned out my ability to do so.

The hush was broken when a familiar voice echoed down the enclosed bridge that led from the throne room. "Make way! I've a few strays."

I scurried forth to stand beneath the portcullis, Meyrick on my heels.

Faradei came running up the bridge, a child in his arms, with two more following shortly behind. Once they reached the gate, he let the child down, and the three little Elves went shouting for their mother. I watched with bated breath until they found her, her cheeks wet with tears.

"I've had the guards search all that they can," Faradei said, glancing from me to Meyrick. "They've been called to the entrance hall. It is believed the Chitauri are assembling some sort of... device outside our gates. We fear they seek to destroy our barricades as they did the tower."

"Have they made any demands?" I asked. "The Chitauri lingered on our borders for almost a year. Why are they attacking now?"

"I know not. They have given no indication of their goals."

I frowned, my bemusement mingling with an ever-rising dread. There had to be an explanation for all of this, for the attack, for the very presence of the Chitauri themselves. Nevertheless, I could not muster an answer.

Faradei reached out to grasp my elbow, drawing me back to the situation at hand. "I will join my brother at the fore," he told me. "And I wish for you to be there as well."

Brow furrowed, I shot a look over my shoulder. "No, I am meant to be here with our people."

His expression softened despite the shake of his head. "I know that is what Castien asked of you, but I do not believe the decision is sound." I blinked, surprised to hear Faradei refuting his brother's resolve. And yet he kept on, "He thinks with his heart, not with his head. He does his best to protect you, though I cannot imagine you need his protection. It would be far more advantageous to have you fight alongside us."

I could not deny that I wished to lend my aid in battle. As much as I sought to bring solace to the Elves sheltered in the throne room, I could not help thinking I would serve them better by facing our enemies and bringing an end to this madness before it pervaded the palace any further.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I nodded. "Spare me a moment? I would have words with Lord Meyrick before I go."

When Faradei acquiesced, I turned to see Meyrick waiting on me. The knowing look in his eyes told me he already understood the choice I'd made. With a careful look, I said to him, "Should a terrible happening come to pass, keep the people as calm as you can. Lead them into the mountains. They will look to you as an example."

"Keep a weathered eye on my apprentices. They have likely found their way to the fore of the conflict," Meyrick remarked.

"Of course they have," I said, somewhat wryly. "They've been craving an opportunity to utilize their barrier magic for months."

He smiled in return and dropped his hands on both my shoulders. "Keep your wits about you, Eirlys. Do not act a fool."

I felt an abrupt pang in my heart. "I pledge that I will not act a fool."

Unable to utter another word, I moved to follow Faradei, crossing beneath the portcullis just moments before the guards lowered it shut at his command.

"Eirlys! Wait." Freezing in my steps, I looked back to see Driana clutching onto the portcullis, her bright blue eyes peering through the grating. I knew what she meant to ask; she needed not speak to express her entreaty.

I graced her with a quavering smile, one I hoped seemed reassuring, though I sincerely doubted it did. "I will ensure he is safe."

She gave no response as Mhalia tugged her back, and the guards swung closed the doors behind the portcullis, bolting them shut with a resounding _clank_.

With a deep breath, I clenched my hand around Silvertongue's scabbard and turned towards Faradei. "Let's go," I said. "We haven't another moment to waste."

Countenance grim, he led the way across the bridge and through the corridors. If it hadn't been for the shouts in the distance and the howling wind, the palace would have seemed... forsaken. There was not a soul to be found in the halls, and it was that fact that spurred me on.

As we neared the entrance hall, an explosion sounded in the distance. I slowed, a strange sense of familiarity overcoming me. Memories of the siege of Asgard flitted through my mind. _The Mad Titan sent the Dark Elves to Asgard. Perhaps we were right to speculate his hand in this as well_. It was a train of thought that had to be entertained later. Right now, I had to worry about bringing about an end to this chaos.

Faradei and I dashed through the door, entering the hall side by side. Every warrior in the palace lined the lengthy chamber. They held their bows at the ready, arrows nocked. We strode past the pillars, winding through the crowd. Once they took notice of our arrival, they began parting left and right to allow us an unhindered passage.

At the forefront, we found Castien with his father. King Tylock stood in full armour, the sigil of the Light Elves shining on his chest plate.

Positioned before them, Meyrick's two apprentices, Azarik and Valdarr, were casting their barriers in conjunction. Although they were barring the heavy iron door well, the metal was already dented, cracks beginning to show.

Castien turned upon our approach, a frown registering on his features when he saw me. "Eirlys? Did you not heed my words? I asked you to keep watch over our people."

"And I asked her here," Faradei broke in. "With what we are about to face, we will need to make use of all the magic we have."

Castien looked ready to argue with him, but their father forestalled his objections. "Faradei is right," Tylock said, sparing me a glance and a nod. "She would serve better here."

If either of the princes meant to say anything after that, they never had the chance.

Sparks showered upon us, and we all tilted our heads back to see the Chitauri cutting through the ceiling of the palace. They worked quickly, so quickly that Tylock hadn't the opportunity to issue a single command. Bits of the ceiling crashed to the floor, and roaring winds whipped through the hall, strong enough to tear the tapestries from the walls. Our warriors moved deftly out of their path mere seconds before the Chitauri came crawling through.

Tylock shouted his orders, but I couldn't make out his words over the sudden din.

My chest tightened when I heard a faint whirring emanating from the opposite side of the great entrance. The sound reminded me of the staff used by the Dark Elves in the halls of Asgard, one that caused an explosion that nearly knocked me unconscious. Stomach churning, I pushed past Castien and positioned myself between Azarik and Valdarr. They made no indication that they noticed my presence, so deep in concentration they were.

I shut my eyes eyes, gathering energy from deep within to cast a barrier atop theirs. A mere heartbeat later, a fiery blast collided with the door. The cracked iron seemed to explode from the impact, pieces of metal flying every which way, battering against our magic shields. We could see outside, our view unobstructed; snowfall whirled in the gale and the Chitauri prepared to fire upon us once again.

Hand quaking, I ducked beneath a streak of flames. Azarik and Valdarr were just barely able to do the same. The Chitauri were still raining down from above. Yet I could not relinquish my hold on the barrier over the door. Castien saw fit to defend us and hurtled into the fray, battling the Chitauri that came between us and the great entrance.

A cry of fury drew my attention to where Tylock and Faradei fought side by side, their bows in hand. Our foes closed in around them, obviously aware of who they were.

Before either—or even I—could react, one among the Chitauri let fly a bevy of projectiles. A small dart no larger than a bee struck King Tylock in the throat. He was swift to pluck it from his flesh. But the damage had been done. Within seconds, it appeared a weakness overwhelmed him, taking the strength from his legs, and Faradei was forced to fight through the crowd, dragging his father to safety.

Once they disappeared into the mayhem, the enemy began to encroach on us. Over the clangour, I could hear Castien calling my name. Breath catching, I turned to the right and saw a Chitauri advancing on Valdarr, weapon glowing in hand. All around us, our warriors were engaged in battle. Castien was a short ways away, fighting to reach our side. But he would never reach us in time.

I cursed under my breath and let my barrier dispel before drawing my sword. Darting forth, I managed to block the small blast the Chitauri fired at Valdarr. I was only just able to drop into a crouch to avoid another shot that came from elsewhere. Enveloping myself in a barrier, I rolled forwards and rose on one knee to stab the Chitauri straight through. For half a second, I paused, absorbing what I'd done. _The first life I've taken in seventy years_. Then I stood to yank my sword free.

Past the bright blue glow of my shield, I took in the scene around me. Castien stood nearby, loosing three arrows in rapid succession. Each bolt struck a Chitauri in the face, and every one fell dead in a heap. When a large eruption shook the chamber again, I bit back a cry and cast a dome-shaped barrier over a dozen of us. It was enough to shield Azarik and Valdarr while they blocked the remains of the gate, but I knew not a one of us spellcasters was going to withstand another blow.

"Eirlys!" Within my blockade, Castien came stumbling to my side, blood on his face. My heart faltered before I realized the blood wasn't his. "Azarik and Valdarr aren't going to be able to endure another blast. When their shields fall, I need you to let me through."

"Through what? The gate?" I shook my head. "No, when their magic fails, I will bear the burden."

"And then what? Wait until you can hold it no longer?" He glanced about, and I followed his gaze to survey the warriors I'd confined in my dome. They were waiting and watching as their brothers in arms fought all around us. I could see Faradei, returned from bringing his father to safety, doing all that he could to defend the barrier I'd built. "Eirlys, I need to get through that gate."

My body was starting to quake from sustaining the spell, and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I feared if I maintained it for too long that I would drop it unexpectedly—or worse, fall into unconsciousness. "What do you intend, Castien?"

"I must destroy that tremendous weapon of theirs," he insisted. "The young sorcerers are wavering. And you can hardly hold your shield as it is. One more blast could tear through your magic and kill you."

"No, I won't let you. It's too dangerous." Darkness was beginning to trespass on my vision. And despite how much I was willing to argue with him, I knew he was right. I doubted I could suffer the Chitauri's handheld weapons much longer. A blast from their mounted artillery was not something I could contend with. But neither could I let Castien go. "If you attempt it, they will overwhelm you. Surely you would die."

"I know."

Our gazes locked, his eyes teary and imploring. All but trembling, I shook my head once more. "No... no, I promised Driana I would keep you safe."

"And I vowed to keep her safe," Castien replied. He peered around, as if considering the turmoil tearing through the hall. "When Azarik and Valdarr drop their shields, I need you to do the same. Once I am through the gate, you must cast a barrier upon it lest you allow the Chitauri to flood the chamber. Do you understand?"

"Castien, I can't... I can't let you do this." Through my blurred sight, I saw him smile. It was the saddest smile I'd ever seen.

"You know this is the only way." He reached out and grasped my shoulder. "I ask that you look after... our family. It will not be easy for them after this. Faradei especially." A shadow of sorrow flitted across his features. "And Driana... ensure that she knows that she meant everything to me."

Before I could answer him, a massive upsurge shook the ground beneath our feet. I looked to see Azarik and Valdarr's combined strength failing. Their shields dissipated, and the Chitauri came pouring through the broken gate. I shared a look with Castien one last time and reluctantly let my barrier fall.

In the blink of an eye, he was tearing through the throng, battling his way past the stream of Chitauri, bow in one hand, blade in the other. My state of vulnerability did not go unnoticed. I had to hunker down, my hands over my head as numerous blasts came my way.

Faradei dispatched my attackers with a swift cascade of arrows before stopping at my side. "What is Castien doing?" The question made my mouth go dry. He turned to me, blond hair in disarray, his normally calm facade shattered. "Is he—?"

Something in my expression must've provided the answer, for he was running after his brother a moment later, shouting words I could not hear over the cacophony.

Vaguely, I was aware of Valdarr dropping to his knees, the Elven youth weakened from expending so much energy. Azarik, however, remained steadfast, his tall and lithe form towering over me. He said nothing as he cast a barrier over the three of us—the last line of defence from the Chitauri swarming the hall. Sparing him a curt nod, I turned to watch Castien leap over the remainder of the gates and disappear into the snowstorm. Yards behind, Faradei trailed in his wake. With a heavy heart, I cast my spell over the entranceway, barring the path of both Faradei and the Chitauri still trying to enter the palace.

I knew not how long I persevered. Every strand of my being seemed to thrum and shudder and throb. As every second passed, my vision tunnelled just a little more, and breathing proved just a little harder. I felt a strange pain in my chest, spreading towards my shaking limbs, seizing my muscles. Something deep within me ached—something decidedly vital—when I strained my magic further and further.

Still, I bore the agony and refused to relent.

But then a large billow of flame erupted in the distance, green sparks burgeoning upwards like an ocean wave.

I let go, crumbling to my knees beside Valdarr, gasping for breath. There was a ghastly roar, to which the Chitauri responded with their own cries. Lifting my head, I stared as the Chitauri began their retreat, their numbers reduced since their arrival. They left the hall with an alarming speed, some climbing out the apertures in the ceiling, most others clambering over the broken gate.  
As they vanished into the tempest, I pressed a hand to my chest, the peculiar ache lingering. Azarik crouched next to me, the concern clear on his often stoic features. "Are you unwell, Your Highness?"

Coughing, I shook my head. "I am fine." The struggle to rise to my full height attempted to prove me wrong. "See to Valdarr. Take him to the healing room. I shall seek you out in due course."

Without a hint of hesitation, Azarik clasped Valdarr's arm and led the younger Elf away from the bedlam. The last of the Chitauri were dead or gone now. All that remained were our warriors. They knew better than to pursue our attackers while they vanished into the cold wastes. Our warriors remained steady and attentive should the Chitauri make any attempt to return. A few Light Elves hastened around the chamber, tending to the wounded. Counting our dead.

_Our dead..._

"Oh, Norns. Castien," I breathed.

My legs refused to cooperate at first, and I stumbled once or twice before eventually rising to my feet and wending my way through the hall. I called Castien's name while I staggered over the dead, my eyes bleary. Bracing myself, I passed the threshold between the hall and the outside world, a flurry of snow and wind near knocking me off my feet.

I paid little heed to the forces of nature as I wandered. I couldn't have, even if I wanted to.

There was death. Death all around. Dead Chitauri, arrows jutting from their chests and their heads. I would've grimaced at the grisly sight if my mind hadn't been otherwise occupied.

My heart just about stopped when I spotted Faradei kneeling in the snow. He hovered over a prone figure, unmoving.

I ran and skidded to my knees opposite him, peering down at Castien. Not yet dead, but dying. In his weakening hands, he clutched onto a Chitauri staff, long, black and etched in indecipherable runes. The one I presumed he'd used to destroy their artillery. It slid a little more from his fingers as his life started to fade.

His skin had become as white as the snow that would serve as his deathbed. My gaze travelled further to see the blood blossoming from his chest, the bright red staining the white. I touched his cheek—cold as ice now—to behold his unseeing eyes. The vibrant blue in them seemed to wane.

I drew back when he looked straight at me, his bloodied hands reaching up to grasp mine. "Driana... tell Driana..." He brought my fingers to the pendant hanging from his neck. It was a key, simple and unassuming brass with an oval-shaped head; I had never seen it before. "Keep... safe..."

With the last of his strength, he closed my hand around the key before the light in his eyes dimmed and vanished. When his hands fell away from my own, the last of his breath departed.

Holding back my tears, I could only look on as Faradei grabbed his brother's shoulders, murmuring his words of disbelief.

The wind dropped into a whisper around us, and the snowfall became no more than dust.

* * *

**Author's Note**: As always, special thanks to **Hr'awkryn** for beta-ing :)

The title of this story, _Between Two Points_, was inspired by the song of the same name by The Glitch Mob.

Please leave a review! I'd love to hear from you all.


	2. Only the Beginning of the Adventure

II.

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**TWO**

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_only the beginning of the adventure_

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The sun rose and set on Alfheim, every day brighter and more beautiful than the last. It almost seemed mocking at times, how bewitching the view was. The way the light glimmered against the untouched fields of snow made the realm appear serene. As if its crown prince hadn't died to protect it.

At the balustrade of my veranda, I plunged my hands into the snow gathered atop the intricately carved railing. I felt none of its bite as I cupped the frost between my palms. It sparkled in the sun, the gleam blurred by the tears welling my eyes. When I heard the footfalls approaching from behind, I let it slip through my fingers before turning.

Mhalia strode across the veranda, her pointed ears pink from the chill. Hastily, I waved my hand, casting a spell to protect her from the cold. Under normal circumstances, my using magic would've amused her greatly. But not today.

She dithered, wringing her hands together. "My lady..."

Sniffling, I paced the long veranda to meet her, the otherwise sturdy planks creaking beneath my every step. "What troubles you, Mhalia?"

"It's Driana," she replied, her eyes snapping up to hold mine. They glistened in the morning sun. A sadness pervaded all who dwelled in Alfheim; certain members of my ladies-in-waiting suffered more than most. "I went calling on her earlier, but she does not answer. The others have come to fret over her as well. We fear she has fallen ill."

I lowered my gaze, knowing the full truth. Though I suspected my other ladies had an inkling, Faradei and I remained the only individuals who were completely aware of the... affair between Castien and Driana. Sighing, I trailed my fingers along the crystal hanging from my neck. They had loved one another so much that they'd forewent all propriety to be together. And I did not blame them. I never could.

I looked at Mhalia, and it was my turn to dither. I could not tell her that Driana was not ill, for I knew Driana to be ill of heart rather than ill of health. "Fret no longer," I told the Elf maiden. "I will speak with her."

Within minutes, I traversed the halls of the palace and came to Driana's door. The polished wood was bathed in multicolour by the stained glass window beside it—brighter now with the vast whiteness blanketing the lands. It had been several days since the Chitauri struck the palace. Days since Castien's passing. Yet Driana's wounded heart remained unhealed; it was an open lesion whose bleeding could not be staunched. Swallowing, I knocked and held my breath to await her response. She made none.

"Driana, might I... might I have words with you?"

There was a distinct stretch of silence. Then, like a faint breeze, I heard her speak, "Leave me be. I wish to be alone."

I let out a breath and laid my hand flat on the door. "You should not have to suffer alone."

This time, she did not answer.

Seconds passed. Eventually, I leaned against the wall to the right of her door and slid down to the ground. My heavy skirts bunched up around me, the cloth wrinkled where I'd kept grasping at it throughout the day. I pressed my brow to my knees, wondering how this ever happened. The many questions we had about the Chitauri—about their arrival, their goals—remained unanswered. All that mattered now was the lives they took. With so many warriors deceased, along with their crown prince, the Light Elves were left floundering.

"Your Highness."

I raised my head to see Arlessa's approach. My handmaiden looked uncharacteristically worn. Due to sleepless nights, I suspected. I hadn't been faring much better, for that matter. "Do you bring tidings?" I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse. I climbed to my feet with all the dignity I could muster—a force of habit from my time in Alfheim.

Arlessa bowed her head. "His Highness—Prince Faradei bid me to tell you that the king's health is failing. It has only worsened since he was informed of... of Prince Castien's passing."

With all the grief that shrouded the palace, for one fleeting moment, I had forgotten about Tylock's condition. He'd been struck by a dart during the battle with the Chitauri. A dart coated in poison. Neither I nor the healers could identify the toxin. But we were fairly certain it hailed from one of the fringe worlds. Which meant that if there was a cure to be found, it could only be found there. The little we did know was that King Tylock was slowly dying.

Closing my eyes, I tugged a hand through my mussed hair. "Thank you, Arlessa." I touched her arm and nodded towards her bedchamber. "You should rest. We've all had very trying days."

I glimpsed her quavering smile before turning to venture the corridors. The palace seemed near devoid of life with most holed up in their chambers, frightened still or in mourning. There were few warriors patrolling the halls. Only a small number of them had to be tended to in the healing room. Many more had perished on the day of the attack.

Upon reaching my destination, I found Faradei sitting in the anteroom of his father's chambers. At first, I almost couldn't recognize him. He appeared haggard, his silvery blond hair dishevelled, dark circles settling beneath his dark blue eyes. When he heard my approach, he looked ready to rise to his feet, but I shook my head and slumped into the seat beside him.

Since his brother's death, Faradei and I hadn't had much occasion to talk. A part of me feared he was angry with me for letting Castien go, and for preventing him from following. Faradei never said as much, and I knew he never would, but the notion persisted in my mind. "How bad is it?" I asked. My words were deafening in the barren room.

"He is dying," Faradei replied. He stated it so simply, a mere fact. Nothing could be said or done to mitigate the gloom, in any case. "How fares Driana?"

My shoulders fell a little. "Unwell... or so I assume. She has not left her bedchamber for near three days now. She will not take any food either." I let loose a shuddering breath. "I worry for her."

"This may help. Or it may only cause more harm." He proffered a box, ornate with golden leaves and little green gems. "It is the box that belongs to this key." In his opposite hand, he uncurled his fingers to reveal the brass key Castien had given me in the last seconds of his life. "It took me many an hour to find it. He seemed to hide everything in the nooks and crannies of his bedchamber."

I smiled softly and took the small chest into my lap. The edges were cold as I caressed them, sliding my fingers downwards to unlatch the clasp. The inside was lined with cobalt blue velvet, scuffed from years of use. Brow furrowed, I scrutinized the countless items: little baubles, seashells, broken hairpins, and an amber crystal in a glass container that looked much like my own pendant. All sentimental objects. And I did not doubt they all had to do with Driana.

As I poked through some of the items, I noticed an envelope sitting at the bottom, one addressed to Driana. I froze and withdrew my hand. "Indeed, I am unsure of how she will react when she receives this." I shut the lid and met Faradei's gaze. "But she should have it."

The king's bedchamber door opened then, and we both looked to see a healer stride out. A most grave expression marked his features. He offered us the respectful bow of his head. "The king's health only continues to decline," he said. "His heartbeat is faint. I do not believe he has much time left, but he would speak with you. Both of you."

Faradei glanced my way, and I responded with a nod. Without a word, we stood and followed the healer into the bedchamber.

The king's chamber was sparsely furnished, though his bed was carved of magnificent oak, as were the two chairs placed on either side. A stone hearth sat by the foot of the bed, flames dancing brightly in the already well-lit room. There were several other healers tarrying by the glass balcony doors, their backs to the sun.

Ever the dutiful prince, Faradei nodded to them graciously and waited until they exited before taking the seat to his father's right. I deposited myself in the chair opposite him, my gaze flitting over the king at last.

Tylock did not necessarily appear frail, although I could tell that life was beginning to leave him. Despite his sickly pallor and the sheen of sweat on his brow, he sat straight and tall with all the great majesty of a king. He did not move. But he did look upon us in turn, his sharp blue eyes drooping with the effort.

"I have... words of import to bestow upon you." His voice was weak and wobbly, so much so that it did not sound like his voice at all. "The Chitauri... they were here because of me—because of what I have done."

Across the bed, Faradei and I exchanged a look. "What do you mean, Father?" Faradei said with the shake of his head. "What have you done?"

To my surprise, Tylock looked at me, blinking slowly. "I am sorry. Truly." Turning from me, he stared straight ahead as he further explained his transgressions, "I once forged an agreement with a mysterious traveller. It was through this accord that I acquired the army I would have used to go to war with the Aesir and the Vanir."

My eyes widened, but I did not dare interrupt him. "I was to hold up my... my end of the bargain, regardless of whether or not war came to pass," Tylock murmured, glancing towards his son. "A force such as theirs requires a steep price. And it was one I was not willing to pay in full. They... they made their threats one year past..." He trailed off, his once proud posture slackening.

Faradei, startled, reached out to grasp his father's shoulders. There was little he could do to help. "Father, please." He held his father upright, for the king could no longer do so himself. "The Chitauri and their keeper have done this. You are not wholly responsible."

Tylock grunted in refutation. "They... they must have bided their time before... struck us in winter..." His eyes began to droop, his head hanging to one side. "I was... so foolish... so rash..."

"Why did you refute them now?" Faradei asked, as if hoping his questions would keep his father coherent. But Tylock's time was at an end, and nothing would delay that.

"Castien... the key..." For the final time, his eyes drifted closed. I heard him say Faradei's name once more before repeating his apologies until his very last breath.

And then that was all.

King Tylock of Alfheim, the second of his name, died when the sun set on the realm he so hopelessly struggled to keep.

When the sun rose, it rose on a new ruler. His first command was to arrange a funeral for the fallen. In the span of three days, forty-two Light Elves had passed: forty warriors, a prince, and a king. The wintery weather let up just long enough for us to send them on their way.

I stood on the seashore, torch in hand. My ladies-in-waiting remained close behind, each clutching onto a bouquet of asphodels; the flowers were an array of stars, stellar clouds made to follow the dead into the afterlife. Hovering at my side, Driana stared into the vessel that lay before us. It was the first time in four days that she'd left her bedchamber. We were dressed the same—black cloth from head to toe, our dark veils fluttering in the ocean breeze.

With a heavy heart, I looked upon my deceased husband. I was struck by how at peace he appeared, as though he were sleeping. All traces of blood were gone, as was the colour in his cheeks, the smile he usually bore, the light in his eyes. All gone. Carefully, I tugged my wedding ring from my finger, the gold glinting in the firelight. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to Castien's brow and tucked the little gold band within his folded hands.

"Goodbye Castien," I murmured. "May the valkyries bear you hence to the hallowed halls of your forefathers."

I withdrew and turned towards Driana. She made no movement. She did nothing more than regard his pale features. But after a moment, she swept forward and kissed his cheek, whispering words of her love to him. I had to look away when I saw her shoulders begin to shake.

Faradei stood on the other side of Castien's vessel, his hand resting on the stern of his father's boat. He bore the crown of a prince still, his circlet shining in the sunlight, even as the clouds rolled in and snow began to fall. His gaze settled on me, and he raised his torch with a nod.

Driana seemed to notice, for she pulled away from Castien. With a shuddering breath, I set Castien's ship alight and watched as his retainers sent it into the sea. Faradei did the same with his father's pyre, and soon all the vessels on the beach were aflame and floating towards the horizon. The mourners gathered at the water's edge and tossed the asphodels in their wake.

As I watched the pyres sail into the distance, I clung onto Driana's hand. She wept openly and unabashed, embodying the role of the widow in a way I never could. I allowed the tears to stream silently down my cheeks, but I would not let the sobs escape me.

When the burning boats disappeared into the setting sun, the mourners gradually began to depart. Letting go of my hand, Driana turned to face me. I could see her eyes glistening beneath her dark veil. "My lady, might I have a moment alone?" she said.

"Of course." I stepped aside, and she glided closer to the shoreline. There she stood, the water seeping into the hem of her dress. She paid it no mind.

Arlessa and my ladies-in-waiting lingered a short distance away, their disconsolate gazes focussed on Driana. If they hadn't known of her relationship with Castien before, I did not doubt they knew now. Rubbing at the trails of tears on my face, I made my way up the beach where I found Lord Meyrick. He observed the proceedings with an unwavering eye, even as I approached.

"Losing one's love is not unlike losing a part of one's being," Meyrick said. "But Lady Driana will heal in time. All wounds do."

"How long have you known?"

He glanced in my direction, his expression passive. "Perhaps after the first few decades of your time here. You and Castien maintained an amicable relationship, but nothing more." He nodded towards Driana. "And a love like theirs cannot be easily hidden from eyes as keen as mine."

I gave him a doleful smile. "I feel as though I cannot fathom her loss. The love Castien and Driana had..." Loki crossed my mind, and not for the first time that day. I missed him greatly each and every day, but I always retained the hope that I would see him again soon. _He still lives_, I told myself. And it was that thought alone that drove me. "To send him out to sea like this brings me such sorrow, yet I cannot imagine her pain."

I nearly started when he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Even so, you loved him dearly. He was your family. Castien will be borne away to the halls of Valhalla. Like all great warriors, he stands at the beginning of a new adventure." He looked out to the ocean, holding his head a little higher. "You never lose the ones you love, Eirlys. There is always hope that you will see them again some day."

It was not much longer before we returned to the palace where we mourned our dead with far greater solemnity than the Asgardians ever had.

The day following the funeral, I was called upon to confer with our new king. The late afternoon's light was starting to fade by the time I reached the enclosed bridge that led to the throne room. As I crossed, the guards posted by the open gate bowed their head to me. I offered them the same courtesy and entered the grand chamber.

I strode down the cobalt blue carpet that lined the middle. It was at the end of it that I found Meyrick speaking in hushed tones to the king. Faradei hadn't been officially crowned—he wished to wait for Lord Frey's arrival with the majority of our warriors—yet he carried on as king regardless. He paused mid-sentence when my presence was heeded.

"Eirlys, I am glad to see you," Faradei said, not looking very glad at all. But I knew it was not due to my company. "There are some... tidings I think you must hear."

His cheerless bearing made me ill at ease. "Good tidings?" I asked. "Or bad?"

Faradei lowered his gaze, seeming reluctant to speak, while Meyrick stood as tall as his old back would allow. Eventually, the king cleared his throat and answered, "Well... Eirlys, I did not tell you everything of what the Chitauri have done."

I lifted a brow. "What have they done other than shake the very foundations of our realm?"

Running a hand over his face, he shifted in the seat of his throne. "They ransacked the treasury." I blinked at this; the only entrance to the treasury was deep within the palace, and no Chitauri made it past us in the entrance hall. "They dug right into the ground with... with what is assumed to be magic."

Tensing, I met his gaze. "Did you discern what they were looking for?"

"No, not yet," Faradei replied. "The treasury is in complete disarray. We aren't even certain if anything was taken."

"Perhaps they were seeking the payment your father promised them," I suggested, folding my arms over my midsection.

Faradei sighed and removed the crown from his head. "That is what worries me. You once told us that the Mad Titan collected weapons—weapons of rarity or great power, yes?"

With my lips pursed, I canted my head to one side. "I cannot be certain the Mad Titan is responsible for this. Your father never said who provided him with his army."

In one effortless motion, Faradei rose from his seat, hoisting the metal staff that had been leaning against the throne as he went. Steps silent on the velvet carpet, he proffered the weapon to me. "This is the staff with which Castien destroyed the Chitauri's artillery," he said. "Does it seem at all familiar to you?"

I took it from him and felt an immediate surge of dark energy, the flicker of magic sending unpleasant chills through my flesh. Verily, it was familiar to me, now that I gave it a more careful look. The metal was black as the night sky, strange otherworldly runes etched upon the shaft. All too clearly, I recalled seeing the same weapon in the hands of the Dark Elf who almost killed me in the corridor of the Asgardian palace's royal apartments. "Yes, I recognize it," I replied. "One of the Dark Elves wielded a similar weapon in Asgard. Perhaps we were right to believe the Mad Titan sent the Chitauri after all... He seems to have made a habit out of ransacking vaults."

The realization that Tylock had arranged a deal with the Mad Titan was surprising. But it was not difficult to believe. In the wake of the Dark Elves' failure, it was no stretch of imagination to think that the Mad Titan had turned to the Light Elves. There had been unrest in Alfheim, and it would not have required much effort on the Titan's part to incite a war. If the Dark Elves were little more than a trial, perhaps he wished for a genuine conflict between the Light Elves and the Asgardians.

"The secrets buried within this incident are not our only concern." Lord Meyrick spoke for the first time since my arrival, his hands folded within his sleeves. "The Chitauri who laid siege to the palace were but a fraction of their true numbers. I have managed to track their movements, and I have seen them departing from our world. They use these... leviathans to transport them through deep space."

"And yet, when I sent my scouts earlier this morning, they discovered a dozen Chitauri on the fringes of our peninsula," Faradei said, pivoting on his heel to deposit his crown on the post that jutted from the back of the throne. "They seemed to be waiting for something, but my scouts weren't willing to risk finding out what that was. Thus, they felled our enemy where they stood."

"I had asked that Azarik go along with them," Meyrick added. "He believes they were waiting at a passageway. The magic is weak, but he suspects the path leads to Midgard."

My heartbeat faltered. "The Chitauri intended to venture to Midgard? For what, exactly?"

Meyrick's brow wrinkled. "Even I do not know. With so few numbers, it is likely they sought to converge with their host on the other side."

A breath of sardonic laughter passed through my lips before I even realized it. "Who would have thought we required the Chitauri to find a path to Midgard."

"I would have found it eventually," Meyrick chided lightly, "that I swear to you."

Deep in grave thought, Faradei descended the steps leading down from the throne. "How many would we be able to send through the passage? A dozen? Maybe more?"

All lightheartedness was quick to evaporate as Meyrick shook his head. "I may have been able to send several, but no longer. Old age has weakened my form, and I cannot convey the magic I once did."

In the span of a heartbeat, I knew what I had to do. A sudden tempest churned within me, but I did not let it hinder my resolve. The Chitauri were venturing further into the Nine Realms. This wasn't just about Alfheim and the Light Elves. And, with the Bifrost gone, something had to be done. "But I can." I held up my crystal for them to see. "I might not have enough power on my own, but with you and your apprentices, I would have enough strength to convey myself."

Meyrick seemed skeptical, but I refuted him before he could voice his dissent, "I have studied the magic for over a year. It was never a lack of understanding that hindered us. It was our inability to find a passage. And now that we've found one, I can go to Midgard."

Frowning, Faradei shook his head. "You would go alone?"

"If those Chitauri meant to convene with their company on the other side, I can only assume they intend to unleash their might on Midgard. We must warn them." My pulse quickened, the rush of blood thundering in my ears. "And I will not let Castien's killers escape unpunished. I would know who did this."

Meyrick moved closer to grasp both my arms with his aged, wrinkled hands. "You would wander into a realm of which you know nothing to chase those who took Castien's life? What is to stop them from taking yours? They are far stronger than you, with their numbers and their weapons."

"I... I know." A pang tore through my heart; I had many reasons to go to Midgard, not all of which I wished to utter here and now. But I would express to them one truth, something I'd carried with me since the Chitauri attacked. "I owe Castien this... this justice." With watery eyes, I glanced from Meyrick to Faradei. "Am I not in part responsible for his death? I let him die. I did as he bid me—I knew I was letting him go to his death, but I let him go regardless."

Shoulders slackening, Faradei looked upon me with a gentle expression. "Do not blame yourself," he said. "Castien was always stubborn. He would have done the same, had you intervened."

With a sigh, Meyrick clutched onto my arms a little tighter. "You needn't risk your life to make amends."

"I do not mean to put myself at risk," I told him. "I only do what needs to be done." Swallowing, I cast a look at Faradei. "And I just want some answers."

"What will you do if you find them?" Faradei asked. "There may be no way back."

I curled my quaking hands around my midsection and shrugged in a show of nonchalance. "I know not. Perhaps I will inform Heimdall. That may be the best I can do."

Meyrick and Faradei shared a glance, but I pressed on, "The mortals deserve a warning. There is no knowing what the Chitauri intend, but the humans must be told of the threat that stands on their borders. Even if they cannot defend themselves from this army, they must be informed without any further delay."

There was a reluctance in Faradei. He lowered his eyes, brow furrowed, but he did not dispute my choice. "If Midgard is to be the Titan's next quarry, then you must help the mortals in any way you can. Stay on Midgard, and mayhap the Asgardians will come to your aid... though there is no knowing how long that might be."

I took in a deep, shuddering breath, but I nodded all the same. "I shall do all I am capable of."

With a sigh, Meyrick let his arms fall to his sides. "I will worry about you." The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You would let an old man worry about his apprentice?"

"Former apprentice," I rejoined with a minuscule smile. Still, his concern moved me, made me think twice. _No, this is for the best_, I assured myself. Someone had to go to Midgard, warn the mortals, seek the truth. And it had to be me.

Meyrick patted my cheek. "I will call upon you midday tomorrow. When the sun is high, we shall send you on your way."

Plodding down the deep blue carpet, Lord Meyrick took his leave.

In the quietude of the throne room, I turned to face Faradei. He slumped into the throne, the large oaken chair seeming much too large for him. "I must admit... I would have Castien's death avenged," he said, his voice hushed. "Though I do not think it an option, I would have it if I could. Would you not?"

"I seek only to remedy a wrong," I replied. It was not entirely the truth. I did want revenge. I wanted those who brought death upon our world to pay dearly. But something stopped me from admitting it. _Vengeance is not an honourable undertaking_, my father would have said. "Justice shall be served, that is all I desire."

He gave me a wry look. "The noble words of a Vanir." His body sagged with a tiredness, and he leaned an elbow on one armrest. "Castien would have sought the same had it... had our roles been reversed. He was always so decisive, so used to getting his way."

The day of his death flickered through my mind. The bloodshed. The fear. I mused on how determined Castien was to do everything in his power to stop the Chitauri. He brooked no argument from me, even at the cost of his own life.

"He once told me that he felt he was wronging you," Faradei said. I looked up in surprise while he continued. "By being with Driana, he thought it was unfair to you."

A short breath escaped me. "But I am glad he found happiness with her. My circumstance was not his fault."

"Yet he yearned for your happiness." He leaned forwards a little, his arms crossed. "He knew you never let go of Prince Loki, as much as you tried to pretend that you had."

I fought against the tears the threatened to rise. "Faradei, why are you telling me this?"

"You are going to Midgard. Did you not mean to search for Prince Loki there?"

My stomach twisted at that. "Yes, I did. But that is of little consequence now..."

"Not if you fulfill your quest first," he said. "When all is done, seek him out. Castien would have wanted you to."

Lowering my head, I managed a small smile. "Well, if Castien wished it, then I suppose I must."

He smiled in return. "Like I said, he was always used to getting his way."

Later in the day, when evenfall descended on Alfheim, I made another attempt to visit Driana. She'd taken to locking herself in her bedchamber again in the wake of the funeral, though she'd been more receptive to food, for which I was thankful. I clutched Castien's ornate box close to my chest and knocked on her door. Arlessa stood at my side, a tray of stew and biscuits balanced between her hands.

Driana's voice came drifting through. "I have had my fill of food for the day. Please, leave me be."

I looked to Arlessa before placing the box beside the bowl of stew and taking the tray from her. I nodded in dismissal and watched her go. With a deep breath, I leaned closer to the door. "Driana, it's me," I said. "I am leaving on the morrow, and this may well be the last opportunity I have to speak with you."

There was a moment of silence, and I feared she would not heed my words. But then I heard the click of a latch being undone. The door opened slowly to reveal Driana, the once glowing Light Elf nothing but a shade of what she had once been. She glanced down at the tray in my hands, then stood back to allow my entrance.

I strode inside, making my way to the couch and placing the tray atop the squat table that sat in front of it. I saw that the curtains were drawn closed on the balcony windows, the flames in the fireplace barely more than a smouldering ruin. Her bedclothes were rumpled, and I had the sense that she'd been tossing and turning these past few nights. After all, I did my fair share of tossing and turning in the dark hours.

After shutting the door, she eased herself onto the couch. I took my place beside her, my fingers digging into the velvet cushion beneath my thighs. When she made no move to touch the food, I snatched up a biscuit and nibbled on it in the hopes that it would compel her to eat. She did nothing other than stare at the box I'd set next to the bowl of stew.

Her words were faint when she spoke at last, "You are leaving?"

Wetting my dry lips, I placed the remains of my biscuit back on the plate. "Yes, on the morrow." I gripped my hands in my lip, twisting my fingers together. "I am to travel to Midgard in the hopes of discovering who sent the Chitauri here. It is suspected that Midgard is their next destination."

She stayed silent thereafter, peering down at the box still.

I held it aloft and opened the lid before offering it to her. "This was Castien's. There is a letter inside addressed to you." She took the small chest and rifled gently through the items, a slight smile tugging at her mouth. It was a pleasant sight to see.

Her brow dipped when she observed the glass-encased amber crystal. Even so, she ran her fingers over the smooth surface with what seemed like reverence. Closing her hands over the gemstone, she raised her head to meet my gaze. "There is something I must tell you, Eirlys," she said. I shifted in my seat and sat a little straighter upon seeing her sudden unease. "I am with child."

My heart near stopped. "You are with child?" I pressed a hand to my mouth, eyes growing wide. "Did... did Castien know?"

"Yes." She bowed her head. "I think perhaps that might have been the reason why he was so willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of our people."

I remembered what Castien said to me shortly before he died, _I vowed to keep her safe_. He would've done anything to protect her and their child. There was no stopping him, no taking his place. "He wanted to ensure no harm came to you. To either of you." I let out a quaking breath and ran a hand over my eyes to keep the tears at bay. "Norns, I hadn't even the slightest inkling..."

"He wasn't quite sure how to tell you," Driana murmured. "I wasn't quite sure how to tell you either, and that is why I have taken to locking myself in here—I feared someone else would discover the truth. He was afraid of the damage this knowledge would beget. He wanted to decide what to do before telling you."

Nodding, I reached out to grasp her hand. "And perhaps he was right—to keep this secret, that is. Faradei is king now, but that does not mean he holds the loyalty of all. I fear there are those who would seek to take advantage." My regard flickered to the door before returning to her. "I think it may be best that few know of your child."

"Castien thought much the same."

"We will have to tell Faradei. He will help you." I let my shoulders fall. I did not think she was safe here, in the palace. And Castien had asked me to keep his family safe. "Perhaps you can go to the cottage we visited. You remember, the one by the lake." Some of the light returned to her at the mention of it. "It'll be warm there, warmer than here, at least. I can ask Lord Meyrick and his apprentices to accompany you. They will protect you. My ladies-in-waiting will go with you, as will Arlessa."

"My lady, you are too kind," she said.

My chest ached as I fought the tears that stood on the brink of spilling over. "My ladies-in-waiting should have been yours from the beginning. You should've been the one to wear that crown, share all his worldly possessions, bear his children. You should've been the one to marry him. You meant everything to him."

Tears began streaming down her cheeks anew. Running a hand through my hair, I berated myself for sayings such things—all the things she should have had, but never could. With a murmured apology, I brought her into my arms, holding her while she wept for everything we lost. For the father her child would never know. As I sat there, silent, I made a vow. I vowed I would uncover the root of this turmoil. And I would avenge Castien's death.

That night, sleep was scarce, but it was dreamless.

When I arose, I was up before the sun. I meandered onto the veranda, snow crunching beneath my boots, and awaited the light of day. In the dead of night, the lands were silent. All creatures had migrated away or gone into hibernation. Sometimes I wished I could do the same.

I turned from the sight only when Arlessa entered my bedchamber, solemn and quiet. She helped me into my gear: breastplate, bracers, and leather trousers. They'd been scratched and worn long before Sif had given them to me. Now, they did not even shine. Now, the armour bore none of its magnificence. It was all dented and marred, having seen one too many battles. But it was all I had left.

Once dressed, my handmaiden set me before the vanity table. Staring into the mirror, I touched the green crystal at my collarbone to ensure it was there and that it would remain so. I watched as Arlessa braided the hair at my temples before plaiting them together down my back; it was the manner in which the Light Elf warriors wore their hair.

"Arlessa, I wish to thank you."

Her fingers slowed, and she peered at me through the mirror. "You needn't thank me, my lady. I have always been your handmaiden and nothing more."

"You are being too humble. Whatever happened to my floundering without you?" I remarked with a dry smile.

In turn, a smile tugged at her mouth, but it never fully formed. "At times I forget that you are no longer the little girl I once knew." She plucked up a malleable golden loop and used it to secure my hair. "I remember when I first became your handmaiden. Your mother had just passed, and you were so afraid. So alone."

"But then I had you."

"Yes, and now you are no longer that little girl." Leaning down, she placed her hands on my shoulders and admired her handiwork in the mirror. "You have changed much, my lady. You are no longer afraid."

My smiled widened, and I patted her hand. As much as I appreciated her sentiment, she was wrong about one thing: I _was_ afraid.

Once Arlessa parted from my company, I went about filling a small pack with essentials: food for several days, a waterskin, my sword-cleaning kit. I even made sure to bring several non-essentials, knowing that I ran the risk of never finding a way back to Alfheim. Among them was Loki's journal, the one filled more with his thoughts than actual academic notes—to me, it was a part of him, and I kept it close as often as I could.

As the noon hour neared, I gathered my ladies-in-waiting in our oft-occupied parlour. I explained to them everything that concerned my undertaking in Midgard. Some were surprised, though most were quick to understand. At Driana's behest, I also informed them of her pregnancy and my wish for them to accompany her henceforth; none of them seemed surprised by the news after what they'd witnessed at the funeral.

We exchanged our farewells. When the time came for me to take the pathway to Midgard, I would have to rely heavily on Meyrick's power to cast the spell. Though I'd grown in power in seventy years of practice, I was not strong enough to employ such a spell on my own. I was prepared to travel to Midgard with no way back, something I saw fit not to mention to my ladies-in-waiting.

At midday, Meyrick came to collect me, attended by both Azarik and Valdarr; I was glad to see both apprentices had fared well since the siege. I followed them down the corridors and the winding stairs of the palace. The entrance hall was still very badly damaged when we stepped inside. Seeing it for the first time since the attack brought back a flood of horrible memories.

Atop the remains of the broken gates, Faradei awaited us. He gazed upon me with such gravity, it made my chest ache. "Find he who commands the Chitauri." Somehow, he sounded a little more like the king he now was. And I would not hesitate to follow his command. "Bring Castien justice. I would have you avenge him if you can."

I nodded and, after a moment, drew him into a hug. "You have my word, Faradei."

With Azarik in the lead, we four sorcerers trekked the vast wintery lands of Alfheim. It was quite a struggle without the aid of our steeds, but we knew horses would not be able to brave the snows. Nevertheless, it seemed the Norns favoured us this day, for the wind was but a sigh and the climate was no more than a trifling matter.

We travelled through a mountain pass, one not often traversed. On the opposite side was the furthermost point of the peninsula—a rocky, unpleasant spit of land—and at the very edge of it, there was a small stretch of terrain one could only reach when the tide was out. That was where the Chitauri had been discovered. It wasn't easy for Meyrick to tread at his age, and it was no surprise he hadn't dared to search this area in his attempt to find passage to Midgard. But with Valdarr at his side, practically carrying him, he did not suffer any falls.

The site where the scouts found and killed the Chitauri was unmistakeable, even to my untrained eyes. They must have huddled together, creating a trough in the snow. As we came upon the camp, I could feel the hum of the hidden passage, just as I felt it by the river in Asgard where I first made Meyrick's acquaintance. At the time, I knew nothing of such magic, the very magic that operated the Bifrost. But now, after decades of study and a year of learning from Loki's journals, I was confident that I could wield it myself.

The thought that this could be the last time I saw Meyrick, the last time I would stand upon Alfheim, made me tremble. Despite the lamentable circumstances that brought me to the realm, it was a home to me. I worried for my ladies-in-waiting. I worried for Driana. Most of all, I worried for Faradei, who had just inherited the throne in the wake of such grief.

"Do not fret, my dear," Meyrick said. He embraced me for what might have been the last time. "Our paths may yet cross again."

I gave him a wavering smile before turning to Azarik and Valdarr. "Take care of Lord Meyrick. He grows older by the day, in spite of what he pretends."

Valdarr chuckled, especially when Meyrick made to protest. "I will ensure he does not embark on foolish ventures."

Inhaling deeply, I adjusted the crystal so that it rested against my skin. When I upturned my palm, the three of them laid their hands upon mine. Then I closed my eyes and felt that push and pull. It was different, absorbing power from several at once as opposed to one. I grasped only their energy, but sensed not their life force.

I raised my free hand, fingers quaking, and cast the spell. I could sense the link between worlds opening slowly, almost reluctantly. The connection was not strong, but it was enough for me to travel by.

Meeting Meyrick's gaze, I gave him a final nod and stepped sideways into the otherwise imperceptible passageway.

The world fell away from my feet before I felt a sharp tug, not unlike that which I felt while travelling by the Bifrost. Everything blurred, and then I was shooting through space, past the stars and all the worlds. Terror gripped me when all grew dark. I could no longer account for my condition or my location. In that moment, I feared I had flung myself into the vast blackness, never to escape, never to be found. But my vision soon returned to me, and I found myself being slammed into the ground.

When I came to, I was lying flat on my back, blinking up at a blue sky. Little puffs of white clouds meandered by, peaceful and undisturbed. A cough wracked my body. Waving my hand to disperse the sand I seemed to have churned, I eased into an upright position. I was in an arid land, so it appeared. _Arid land on Midgard, I hope_.

As the dirt gradually settled, I climbed to my feet with careful movements. Turning in place, I stared, wide eyed, at two women who had been watching me the entire time. One of them, a brunette, all but gaped while the cup she'd been holding fell from her hands. The dark liquid spilled across the ground as her companion said, "That... doesn't look like Thor."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Tadaa! She's made it to Midgard at last.

I'd just like to express my gratitude to everyone who reviewed. Normally, I would've replied to you all in the form of a PM, but I didn't have the opportunity this past week. So, thank you. Thanks also to everyone who favourited and followed, as well as to my awesome beta, **Hr'awkryn**.

The chapter title comes from a track of the same name on _the_ _Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ soundtrack.

Please leave a review! It's always lovely to hear from you all.


	3. Puente Antiguo

II.

* * *

**THREE**

* * *

_puente antiguo_

* * *

Standing motionless, I gawked at the two mortal women, and they gawked at me in return.

My already racing heart jolted at a series of screeches and chirps. The slightly fairer-haired of the two—the one who'd dropped her cup—sprang into action, plucking up various little boxes with flickering lights. "Oh my God, Darcy, look at these readings," she said, scribbling away in the pages of a well-worn journal. "This is exactly what I needed—the exact kind of event!"

Her companion didn't look nearly as impressed. In fact, she hadn't reacted to the rather alarming sounds, so stunned by my appearance she seemed. As the other woman began circling me, waving around a strange metal device, I looked down and realized I was standing atop a Bifrost rune. The world seemed to shift, and an unbearable dizziness sent me stumbling forward.

"Jane, I think she's gonna—"

When I fell to my knees, hands braced against the dry earth, both women leapt towards me. The darker-haired one—Darcy—hovered nearby, while the other crouched beside me. "Are you alright?" the woman asked.

Hand to my chest, I took several deep breaths before bestowing her with a nod. "I will be fine. I just... I just need a moment's rest."

She shifted, and I saw her exchange a look with her friend. "Did you come from Asgard?"

Lifting my head, I glanced between the two of them, my vision blurry and my mind muddled. The strenuous use of magic drained me more than I'd expected. Though I likely should have anticipated it. After all, I'd pulled open a fissure between worlds—not to mention it was a spell I'd never cast before.

"Have I reached Midgard?" I murmured. "I—I mean Earth. Is this Earth?"

"Yes."

I rubbed my brow and regarded the Bifrost rune beneath me, my vision swimming in and out of focus. Heart clenching, I ran my fingers across the deep etchings and felt the lingering hum of magic that was not mine. Someone else had been here, a recent visit—relatively so. It could not have been more than a year ago, seeing as the Bifrost had not operated since then.

"I came from Alfheim, not Asgard." Brow furrowed, I looked up at the mortal named Darcy. "Did you make mention of Thor? Are you acquainted with him?"

The woman beside me lurched. There was an odd eagerness in her expression. "Do you know Thor?"

Eyeing her carefully, I nodded. "Yes, I lived in Asgard for a time, long ago... But I have not seen Thor in several years."

She sat back on her haunches. The slump of her shoulders was difficult to miss, and I thought she had no further interest in conversing. But, after a contemplative moment, she extended a hand to me. I looked at it, blinking, as she said, "I'm Jane. Jane Foster."

I stared at her hand—_this is a human custom_, I realized, and it was not one I was familiar with. Uncertain, I reached out and grasped her hand, hoping it was the right thing to do. Apparently it was, for she shook it and let go, smiling all the while. "My name is Eirlys." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inclined my head to gaze upon her blearily. "How did you become acquainted with Thor?"

Jane glanced sideways, at the edges of the Bifrost rune. "He was here about a year ago," she told me. "He was... exiled, I think. It all happened so fast, he never said why." She shook her head. "And then he was gone. I'm not even sure if—if he's alive."

I could not refrain from smiling softly at her concern. "Do not fret, Jane Foster. Thor yet lives. I have been told he fares well... all things considered." Her features seemed to brighten at my assurances. "Asgardians are very hardy folk, and Thor is more formidable than most."

"Oh, thank God." She let out a breath of laughter. "Thank you for telling me. For a whole year I've just been... wondering."

"Jane's been trying to find him the entire time," Darcy remarked. "She drives out here like every day." Jane shot her a look. "What? It's true."

I raised a brow, but deigned not to enquire about the nerve she seemed to have struck. "I fear the Bifrost has been destroyed. That is why he has not able to return."

"Oh, that's... that certainly explains things."

With a deep breath, I slid my legs from underneath me and attempted to rise. Once on my feet, my muscles shook, and my knees struggled to hold me upright. The journey had weakened me. Never before had it occurred to me how much energy the Bifrost expended every time it operated. It made me wonder how any individual had enough power to send dozens of Dark Elves to Asgard all at once.

It did not take long for what little strength I had to leave me. I stumbled a ways to my left, and the two mortal women were quick to come to my side. Jane, being within reach, was the first to grasp my arm to keep me vertical.

Through hazy eyes, I noticed Jane exchanging another look with Darcy. She waited for her reluctant nod before turning back to me. "Why don't you head back with us?" Jane offered. "You look like you need a place to stay, and we have plenty of room."

I looked at her, silent for a moment, then nodded. "That would be much appreciated."

With the two mortals on either side, I was steered towards the large metal carriage situated several yards away. Upon throwing open the doors, they sat me in the stern. Groaning, I held a hand over my eyes in the hopes that the spinning would cease sooner rather than later.

"You just wait here. There are a few things I want to check out first," Jane said. Then she was running about the Bifrost site with her book in one hand and a small device in the other.

I watched her, brows cinched, as Darcy perched beside me. "I'm Darcy, by the way."

I offered her a slight smile. It felt odd to me, smiling. There had been so little to smile about in the past several days. "Well met, Darcy."

"So... how long have you known Thor?"

I tilted my head in curiosity when Jane dropped to her knees, waving her device all around the Bifrost rune. Clearing my throat, I glanced at the mortal beside me. "I believe I have known him for over seventy years now." Her mouth fell open, and I realized seventy years must've seemed a very long time to the mortals. "I lived in the palace of Asgard for two years... but that was many decades ago."

Darcy's gaze shifted towards Jane who continued to pay us no mind. "Did you and Thor ever have a thing together?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Like, you know, more than friends."

The thought actually made me laugh a little. "Oh, no. Not at all." I peered up at the sky, azure and clear now that the small clouds had left. After everything that happened, it felt like so long since I'd last seen my friends. I wondered what Thor and the warriors were doing right now, how they were faring in the aftermath of the Bifrost's destruction. I wondered if Thor believed Loki to be dead.

Shaking my head, I looked over at Darcy. "Thor is a brother to me, if anything."

Jane hastened back to meet us. "Okay! We're good to go."

As per Darcy's direction, I climbed further into the peculiar vehicle and ensconced myself in one of the seats. While I did so, Darcy and Jane were quick to delve into a quarrel about who would operate the machine.

Turning in my seat, I leaned near to the window and stared outside. It was strange; I hadn't considered how boundless Midgard was and how little direction I had. This desert alone appeared so vast. How had I ever expected to find Loki? If he was alive, I doubted he wanted to be found. Least of all by me. Seeking a host of Chitauri, however, would likely be an easier task.

In the end, it was Jane who won the argument. She set herself before the large black ring at the fore of the apparatus, fiddling with a ring of keys. My eyes darted all around when the vehicle purred to life. And then we were off, wending wildly through limitless plains. I had to grip the edges of my seat, so alarming was the speed at which we travelled.

I thanked the Norns that we soon reached a road—an unswerving road. And within minutes, we came upon a village. I caught a glimpse of a green sign by the roadside marked with the name of our apparent destination: Puente Antiguo. The vehicle slowed as we entered the settlement. Twisting in my seat, I pressed myself close to the glass, taking everything in with wide eyes.

After living in Alfheim for seventy years, everything here seemed so box-like and lifeless in comparison. The Alfheim palace was all round rooms of wood and stone overgrown with greenery. This Midgard village was arid and barren, with so few people meandering about.

The vehicle came to an abrupt halt at the entrance of an unusual building bearing a glass face. Standing atop the edifice was a metal tower of sorts, the word 'SMITH' marking the front, a star gracing its crest. "Is this your home?" I asked as Darcy came to pry open the metal door to allow my exit. I gazed through the glass to see it full of mechanical instruments, each full of blinking and flickering lights.

"I guess you could call it that," Jane replied. "We've been here for quite a while now."

She led the way inside. I walked with a steadier step now, even though my legs quivered and I all but tripped upon crossing the threshold. At any rate, I entered the building without major incident and surveyed the interior with an inquisitive eye. There were images stuck to the freestanding boards—images of stars and nebulas and swirling clouds that much resembled the capabilities of the Bifrost.

"What is all of this?" I queried, pacing closer to a table full of instruments. I dared not touch any of it.

Jane spread her arms at everything. "This is my life's work. All my research." I raised a brow. "I've been looking into Einstein-Rosen bridges—a direct connection between two places in space."

"Like a portal." I nodded in understanding. "Like the Bifrost."

"Like how you got here," Jane said.

A sudden dizzy spell overcame me.

I would have fallen face first into the table if I hadn't thrown my hands out to stop myself. To my fortune, I did not disturb any of Jane's belongings. Darcy came to my side and tugged me towards a heavily cushioned couch set beneath the window. "That was a close one," she commented. "You almost faceplanted on my new iPod."

Once I was sitting, I ran a hand through my hair, accidentally undoing one of Arlessa's braids. "Forgive me. I have expended much energy to convey myself here."

Jane hurried across the room. "Here, why don't I get you a cup of coffee?"

Moments later, she returned with a mug, the side of it displaying a funny drawing of a large-headed yellow bird. I gave her a grateful smile and took a sip. I came close to coughing on the bitter concoction, but I made sure to swallow carefully instead. "Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse. Placing the mug on the squat table set before me, I noticed several of the books laid across its surface. Two of them boasted the same title: _Norse Mythology_. Both were covered in illustrations of what I could only assume was Odin; the eyepatch was unmistakeable.

Across the table, Jane sat in one of the swivelling chairs, and Darcy plopped herself in one beside her. "So... how exactly did you get here?" Jane asked. I noted that she had her journal opened in her lap, a writing utensil at the ready. "Since you said the Bifrost is gone. I assume you found another way."

I shifted in discomfort; my ill-fitting armour dug into my thighs every time I sat forward. Feeling secure enough in the presence of these mortals, I removed my satchel and began undoing the buckles and clasps. "Well, I used magic to travel here."

Jane shook her head. "If it were that simple, why hasn't Thor found a way back?"

"I came here by a passageway between worlds." I hesitated, uncertain if she would understand any of what I could tell her. Nevertheless, I explained it all, "It has been theorized that these passageways are remnant paths between realms created by the Bifrost or some other unknown force. It requires magic to reopen them."

Grimacing, I slid my armour over my head and placed it on the ground beside my feet. Then I removed my scabbard from my belt and deposited Silvertongue in my lap. I did not miss the way Darcy stared at the blade with open fascination. "The paths from Asgard were sealed long ago—most of them, at the least," I continued. "Those that remain cannot be found by... by those present in Asgard." Allowing my muscles to relax, I rubbed at the back of my neck. "I suppose the All-Father could gather enough power to summon Thor here. But that sort of magic tends to be... dangerous."

Although Jane nodded, her face seemed to fall. "I see." Shoulders hunched, she looked down at her book. "Do you think he'll ever find his way to Earth again?"

"I cannot say." I eyed the mortal woman, now unable to keep from wondering about her feelings towards Thor. It was of no surprise to me that maidens were quite taken with him—especially mortal women—but something told me that this was more than just a simple infatuation. "Though I would not lose hope, Jane Foster. The Asgardians always find a way."

The ghost of a smile played at her lips.

"Wait, so, you used a ton of magic to come all the way here from another planet?" Darcy said. I nodded in affirmation. "What for?"

For a moment, I wasn't quite sure what to say. _Should I tell them about the Chitauri?_ I wondered. They were researchers, and I did not think it fair to involve them in the danger that possibly loomed over Midgard. In the interest of shielding them, I thought only to utter vague truths, "My king has bid me to undertake a quest of great import. Which I must embark upon immediately."

Muscles quaking, I gripped the arm of the couch and attempted to stagger to my feet.

Jane and Darcy simultaneously jerked forward. "You don't look so good," Darcy remarked.

I blinked and peered down at my unoccupied hand. My vision was unfocussed, and my body was trembling. Verily, I was beyond exhausted—a strange feeling, given that I'd awakened mere hours ago. "I must admit embarrassment," I murmured. "I have not wearied myself in such a manner for quite some time."

"Hey, everyone needs a break once and a while," Jane said, plucking up a blanket that had been left balled up on one of the swivelling chairs. "You can have the couch. Stay as long as you need."

My ears grew hot as I took the blanket from her. "This is very generous of you..."

"It's nothing," she replied. "You brought me some good news. And a whole new batch of readings. Giving you a place to crash is the least I can do."

"Thank you... both of you." Worn out, I left my satchel on the floor and tucked Silvertongue in the crevice where the back of the couch met the seat. Hand to my forehead, I lay back with the thought of letting my eyes rest for no more than several moments. I dozed, listening to Darcy and Jane shuffle about, speaking in hushed tones.

Without intent, I soon drifted to sleep, the all too common images of fire and darkness plaguing my dreams. They came and went in a flurry, leaving me with the same unsettled feeling as before.

When I awoke next, the sky had darkened and the whirring hum of Jane's machines had been silenced. I blinked in the gloom, pressing a hand to my much too warm brow. Motion drew my attention, and I shot upright, clutching Silvertongue to my side.

Jane jumped, her wide eyes shining in the moonlight. Seeing the little paper bag she'd set down on the table, I relaxed a touch. "My apologies," I said, my breath coming in shallow pants. "I have been fretful of late." I swallowed thickly and ran a hand over my eyes. "Sleep has been difficult since the passing of a friend."

Expression softening, she met my gaze in the shadows. "I'm sorry about your friend."

I responded with a brief, mournful smile. "Thank you."

The stiffness of her posture vanished, and she gestured to the bag. "I brought you some food," she told me softly. "I thought you'd be hungry when you woke up."

"Oh, of course." With gradual movements, I shifted to place my feet flat on the floor. "I am quite famished."

There was a lingering moment of silence before she picked up the bag once more. "Do you want to eat on the roof where we can talk?" She made some vague gestures towards the back of the room. "Darcy's asleep, and I haven't eaten yet."

I smiled in thanks. "Yes, I think that would be quite agreeable." Standing, I secured Silvertongue to my belt, unwilling to part with my blade. In the midst of doing so, I glanced at the numerous books of 'Norse mythology' sitting on the table. "May I peruse one of these?"

"Help yourself," she replied.

With one of the tomes in hand, I strode in her wake to ascend to the roof.

Upon climbing the stairs, we came to two chairs, both covered with heavy blankets. A large brazier sat before them, its coals cold and black. While Jane attempted to set it alight, I wandered about the roof. Gravel crunched underfoot as I neared the edge and peered over.

The town of Puente Antiguo was full of lights burning more vividly than any flame. Over my shoulder, I gazed up at the tower standing atop Jane's abode; it too was illuminated, the star at its pinnacle as bright as any star in the sky. With all their technology and creativity, the Midgardians were not as primitive as I had been led to believe.

The rustling of paper and the smell of food brought me back to Jane. I came to a rest on the lengthy chair beside hers, warming my hands over the little fire she'd brought to life. She passed me a flat, round stack of meat and bread she called a 'hamburger.' I almost wanted to laugh at the sheer ingenuity, but it was so delicious, any bouts of laughter were swiftly ceased.

As soon as we finished partaking of our hamburgers and little potato sticks, I wiped my hands and rifled through the tome of mythology. I opened the cover, and a rectangular image of two men came fluttering out. I lifted it carefully, brow cinched. Taking notice of Jane's wistful countenance, I handed it to her.

"I forgot I left this in there," she said, gazing down at it with a fond eye.

I leaned a little closer to view the picture. "Who are they?"

She pointed to the dark-haired man. "That's my dad. He... passed away a while ago." And then she gestured to the other. "This is Erik Selvig, one of his colleagues. He's still a good friend of mine, actually." The smile overcoming her features warmed my heart. Of late, I had not seen much happiness born from memories of the dead; there tended to be more tears than smiles. Upon lowering the glossy image, she glanced up at me. "Erik was here when Thor came to Earth. You know, it's been a while since I've talked to him..."

When her attention returned to the image, I resumed my perusal of the book in my lap. It was most amusing to see the depictions of Thor, Odin and Frigga. The mortals knew their names, their titles, and what they looked like—albeit in a rather inexact sense. There were various myths and legends detailing the great deeds of Thor and his kin.

"Are all those stories about Thor true?" Jane asked.

"Some of them." I raised a brow, my gaze gliding over the words. "Though I must protest the accuracy. He did not fulfill all these great deeds alone." I recognized some of the tales about wondrous adventures and the battles against trolls and giants and various other fel creatures. Such recollections made my eyes prickle with tears, for it was Loki who told me of them, having been Thor's steadfast accomplice.

She looked to be on the verge of laughing. "He gets himself in a lot of trouble, doesn't he?"

I could not help but beam in return. "Oh, you have no idea."

It was obvious to me now that Jane had a special affection for Thor. I surmised that she had taken him in during his exile, not unlike the aid she offered to me. And that meant much, that she as there for Thor in a difficult time. It occurred to me that I was walking in Thor's footsteps: stranded, alone, unsure of what I was meant to do. It gave me a hope; he found his way, and perhaps I would too.

Bowing my head, I continued to regard the book. The instant I turned the page, my heart skipped a beat. I found myself observing the entry dedicated to Loki. The Trickster. God of Mischief. There was a cold, almost disturbing air to his grin as depicted by the crude drawing of him. A chill surged through me, and I snapped the book shut before pushing it aside.

Jane watched me all the while, her brow furrowing at my reaction. If this gave rise to questions, she did not voice it. Instead, she saw fit to enquire about more important matters at hand, "You said you were on some kind of quest. What did you mean, exactly?"

I looked at her, wordless at first. It had remained an ongoing internal debate, whether or not I should impart such information—as if I could keep her and Darcy out of harm's way by concealing it. I feared it was too late for that. My being here had already drawn them into it. Jane and Darcy had taken me in with little question, and I had no one else to turn to. How was I to know who would best appreciate my warnings otherwise?

"My people were attacked by beings we call the Chitauri. In the wake of the siege, the Chitauri fled. Upon tracking their movements, we discovered that they were attempting to travel to Earth," I told her. "I have come here to learn why."

Leaning back, she pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Should we be worried?"

"In truth, I am uncertain." The Chitauri had invaded the palace of Alfheim, delving deep into our vault in search of payment—whatever that payment might've been. There was no knowing what they wanted on Midgard. But I had a feeling the Mad Titan was in pursuit of something powerful and perhaps dangerous. Did he not send the Dark Elves to Asgard for the same reason? "It would do well to be cautious."

Jane gave me a reassuring smile. "I know some people I can contact, but it might have to wait until morning. I'm sure it's nothing we mortals can't handle."

I responded in kind. "Yes, I daresay you are not at all as I expected you to be."

We settled into a comfortable, languid silence. As we admired the stars that began to show in the blackening sky, Jane let out a wide yawn. Rubbing at her eyes, she muttered an apology.

"Please, do not keep awake on my account," I remarked. "I am not likely to find rest again."

She said nothing more. Wrapped in numerous blankets, she curled up on her side and fell into a peaceful slumber before long. Toying with my crystal pendant, I stood from my seat and cast a spell to ward her from the cold. I paced across the roof and sat at the very edge, my legs dangling over the side.

All was quiet as I sat there, watching the lights in the town below go out one by one. The glare of the lights lessened until I could see the stars unhindered, the moon revealing only half its face this night. I searched the Nine Realms above, wondering if the people I loved were looking upon the same stars. "Good Heimdall, if you are listening, ensure my friends that I am well," I murmured. "Tell them that I miss them." I glanced behind at a sleeping Jane. "And tell Thor I am not the only one who does."

Though I could not find sleep in the night, I tried to take comfort in the tranquillity of the Midgardian town. I liked the quiet. I hoped it would bring an end to my churning thoughts, but it might've given rise to them instead.

My musings often drifted to Castien, to Driana and their unborn child. It had been five days since Castien's death—six now, if the beginnings of the sunrise were any indication. I mourned for him still. I even mourned for Tylock, a king whom I had little relation to. My lack of fondness for him could not diminish the memory of Faradei's remorse as he sent Tylock on his final journey across the sea.

The _thrum_ of machinery in the otherwise silent town caught my attention. Squinting against the light of the rising sun, I saw three large black vehicles rolling down the road. I blinked in surprise when I discerned they were heading right towards us. "Jane," I called. Climbing to my feet, I scurried over to the sleeping mortal, my hand wrapped around the hilt of my blade. "Jane Foster, please awaken."

She was soon peering up at me through the many blankets she'd buried herself in. "What?" At first she seemed confused, as though she didn't recognize me. But then the bemusement disappeared. "What's wrong?"

"You appear to have visitors."

Blankets were flying in all directions as she stumbled towards the edge of the roof. Tentative, she glanced over the side. "Oh, of course they showed up." Jane turned to me, her features pinched. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

I furrowed my brow. "Who are they?"

"They're a... government organization." She ran a hand through her rumpled hair. "Come on. I think they might be here because of you."

My bewilderment didn't lessen after we came down from the roof. We entered the main room and found Darcy meandering about in a half-awake stupor, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was staring, bleary-eyed, through the front window where there stood a dozen men garbed in pristine black apparel. One man among them strode to the forefront, removing his black tinted eyeglasses before knocking on the glass door.

Jane crossed the room, her steps unhurried. When she opened the door, it was the man who spoke first, "I'm sure you know why we're here."

"I figured," she said, standing back to open the door further. "Did you drive all the way out here?"

"We were in the neighbourhood." The man entered the room with a taller man and woman flanking him. Despite his stature, I still thought him a rather imposing figure. "We picked up readings of an individual touching down on the Bifrost site." He surveyed me while tucking his eyeglasses into the front pocket of his jacket. "I'm assuming that was you?"

I cast a look at Jane. She let the door close behind her and moved to stand next to the man. Her unperturbed nature and familiarity with him put me at ease. "Yes, that would have been me," I answered.

The man paused before nodding. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson with SHIELD."

"SHIELD?"

One of his companions approached with a rectangular piece of glass, one that emitted light and images. "We're an organization that deals with rather... unique circumstances," he explained. I blinked, mystified, but did not have the opportunity to ask for clarification. "I don't suppose you happen to be familiar with Thor?"

"I am." Lifting a brow, I looked round at everyone in the room. "You all seem to be acquainted with Thor."

Agent Phil Coulson passed the device back to his associate. "He stirred things up a bit when he was here."

I nodded in understanding. Unique circumstances indeed. The exile of an Asgardian prince was not something that occurred lightly.

Darcy hovered beside me now, clutching her blanket up to her chin. "No kidding. That huge metal robot thing kinda blew up half the town."

I frowned. "Metal robot?"

"Yeah!" she replied. "It shot this big freaking laser and everything. You should have seen Thor fight that thing." Her voice lowered. "It was awesome."

Crossing my arms, I peered at Phil Coulson and Darcy in turn. "Do you refer to the Destroyer?" I had never seen the Destroyer in person, but I'd read enough about it. 'Metal robot' was an apt enough description. "But that makes little sense, the All-Father—" Then the truth struck me so suddenly that I almost stumbled backwards. The mere thought of it chilled me to the core. Loki had to have sent the Destroyer, not the All-Father. He'd been king at the time, the temporary wielder of Gungnir.

"I think it was trying to kill Thor and his friends," Jane said.

Hollowly, I turned to face her. "Which friends?"

Her brow cinched as she tried to recall. "I think they introduced themselves as the Lady Sif and the... Warriors Three?"

An unfettered sickness roiled in my stomach. I gripped my crystal pendant in search of comfort. As soon as I did, I let it drop as if burned. There was no doubt in my mind that Loki was deliberate in sending the Destroyer. To make certain that Thor would not return to Asgard. His determination to keep Thor in exile was easily remembered. But to make an attempt on the lives of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three? I found it difficult to believe, but not impossible. _By the Norns, why didn't Frigga tell me?_

"I think it would be best if we had a little chat," Coulson suggested.

We sat together at the table, Coulson's associates lingering a short ways away while Jane bustled about, making coffee. I folded my hands atop the table, the ache in my heart refusing to fade. Coulson watched me, impassive, but I was certain he'd perceived my reaction to hearing about the Destroyer.

Jane returned with mugs of the bitter concoction for each of us. I sipped mine just once before putting it aside. Coulson, on the other hand, drank far more liberally. "If you don't mind me asking," he said, "what business do you have on Earth? You should understand that we're not exactly keen on outsiders. The last time an extraterrestrial came here, things got a little dicey."

I had half a mind to argue that the damage hadn't been Thor's doing, but I realized such a detail mattered not. It had been Loki's doing—as outsider, as Coulson had said—and telling them that would do little to earn their trust. These agents of SHIELD seemed to have Jane's trust. And I suspected they were the ones to help me. After all, they were a government organization that handled 'unique circumstances.'

So, I opted to speak as much of the truth as I could. "I am the Lady Eirlys, Dowager Princess of Alfheim," I said, "and I come bearing a message."

Agent Coulson's expression did not change. "I'm listening."

I told them all that I could about the Chitauri: how they laid siege to my home, killed people I knew and loved. I informed them of my quest to find answers and warn the humans of what was to come. With words I hoped they understood, I described the secret passageways between worlds and how the Chitauri meant to travel to Earth. I did, however, choose to omit my secondary quest to find Loki; I suspected it would've been a quick way to lose their confidence.

After I finished my tale, Coulson leaned back in his seat and nodded to one of his colleagues. "We appreciate the concern, Your Highness." The reference to my royal title was off-putting, but he pressed on before I could think on it any further, "I can only tell you that SHIELD has been taking a number of precautions since your friends paid us a visit last year. We're already on high alert."

I nodded in understanding. "Aside from that, I mean to discover the instigator of this madness," I told him. "But, since I currently have no direction, I shall offer my aid to you should you be in need of it."

Coulson stood, his associates already taking their leave. "You should stay with Miss Foster for the time being." He took one last sip of his coffee before leaving it half-empty on the table. "If we find out anything more about this alien army, we'll be sure to let you know."

"You have my gratitude, Agent Coulson."

He remained stock-still for a moment, then offered a small smile. "Thank you for your cooperation." With long strides, he crossed the room to make his exit. At the door, he paused and turned back to Jane. "Oh, and Miss Foster, Doctor Selvig says hi."

* * *

Three days were spent in Puente Antiguo. For three very long days, I waited in the mortal world, not once leaving the company of Jane and Darcy. Since SHIELD's visit and hasty departure, all remained quiet in the sleepy little town. It was an unsettling quiet, like a calm shoreline on the brink of a storm.

I considered beginning my search for Loki, although I could not be certain of how to find him—or if he was really on Midgard in the first place. Thus, I simply waited for SHIELD's word, whether it be with regards to the Chitauri or any other threat. My time was often squandered on ruminating, wondering, worrying. I felt adrift. Stranded in an unusual world, my quest no more than a futile chase. But I could take comfort in the fact that I was not truly alone.

During the day, I aided Jane with her research alongside Darcy. I knew nothing of what she was attempting to accomplish, despite her efforts to explain it to me. Nevertheless, I assisted in whatever way I could.

We made frequent excursions to the Bifrost site where Jane would wave around her devices and scribble madly in her book. In those instances, Darcy endeavoured to teach me about all the technology they used to communicate, store information, and travel great distances—phones, computers, tablets, trains, cars, airplanes. It felt as though I was learning a new language.

In the midst of one afternoon, I sat at the dining table with Darcy, poring over a faulty device. I watched as Darcy fiddled with the wires, eyeglasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose. "Jane, I think we have a problem here," Darcy said.

Jane sat at her desk opposite us, a computer blocking our view of her. "What? What's wrong?" Her head peeked over the top of the screen. "Is it broken?"

"No, the problem is I have no idea what the hell I'm doing." Darcy prodded the wires once more. "You're the one who made this. It's not like I'm programming a clock here."

The huff of exasperation Jane expelled was one of many I'd heard in the last three days. "Okay, okay, I'll take a look at it later. I'm just in the middle of entering a whole bunch of data. I think I might be on the verge of something extraordinary here."

Darcy gave me a deadpan look before pushing the device aside. I had to contain my amusement when she frowned and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Less than ten seconds passed before she perked up again. "Hey, Eirlys, you wanna try some ice-cream?"

"Ice-cream?" I smiled bemusedly. "What is that, precisely?"

"Oh, you're gonna love it. The place down the block sells the best ice-cream sandwiches ever." She sprang to her feet and went scrambling about the room, foraging for her bag. "Is it okay if we go out, Jane?"

"Why are you asking for my permission?"

"I don't know, it made sense to me," Darcy said, ceasing the hunt for her belongings. "I mean, Eirlys hasn't exactly gone outside much since SHIELD dropped by. I thought they would want to... you know... make sure she doesn't wander."

I snorted softly and meandered around the room to help Darcy with her search. "It's not as though they said I wasn't allowed outside. I am not a child, nor am I dangerous."

Sighing, Jane attempted to return to her work. "Carl's store is a block away," she said. "Seriously, it's not that far. What could possibly happen?"

Darcy looked appalled. "Jane! That's what people say before they get blown up. Don't you remember how the whole town got lasered before?"

Despite not being able to see Jane's expression, her groan was plainly heard. Before anything more could be said, the buzz of Jane's cell phone sounded in the room. She whirled her chair around and rolled across the floor to answer the call. "This is Jane Foster." Her brow dipped as the person on the other end replied. "What? No, I'm sorry. I can't—"

Darcy sidled closer. "What's going on?"

Jane covered the bottom half of her phone. "Some astrophysics lab wants me to consult on something."

"Does it pay?"

She shot Darcy a withering look before speaking into the phone once more. "Where is this lab?" There was another brief pause. "Tromsø? Alright... Okay, fine. That would be fine."

When she ended the conversation, Darcy commenced her questioning, "Where's Tromsø?"

"Norway," Jane replied. "It sounds pretty important. They're sending a car to pick me up right away."

I shared a look of confusion with Darcy. "Are we to remain here?"

Jane hummed. "Well, they said to bring my assistant." She rotated her chair to face Darcy. "Which I assume means you. Looks like we're going to Norway."

I lingered, frowning. Agent Coulson had asked me to stay with Jane Foster, which I was quite glad to do—and by that, the presumption was that we'd be located in Puente Antiguo. Yet she was being called away with great urgency. I did not think SHIELD would have allowed such a request to be asked of Jane Foster without their knowledge. It did not seem right.

"Something must have happened," I murmured. Jane and Darcy glanced my way, their quizzical expressions mirroring one another. "SHIELD wouldn't allow you to be called away to leave me here unattended. Something has happened."

"What kind of something?" Jane pursed her lips and glimpsed her machines as if they might hold the answer.

I shook my head. "I know not. But I suspect SHIELD will be calling upon me soon."

Darcy hunched her shoulders. "Well, maybe—"

The explosion was so sudden that I hadn't the time to repel the incoming shower of glass.

The entire front of the building had been blown to bits, some of Jane's smaller devices flying from their perches. I was barely able to cover my eyes, the shards of glass making nicks along my arms. As soon as everything settled, I straightened and looked about.

Jane and Darcy had dropped to the ground a short ways behind me. Crouched behind her desk, Jane searched the room nervously, while Darcy lay half on the ground, her hands over her ears. I turned towards the old couch sitting in the corner of the room, one that went unused. Swathing it in a bright blue barrier, I tugged it closer, the large leather piece of furniture sliding deftly along the floor. "Take cover," I told them.

I merely assumed they did as I asked, for I made my way over the shattered glass with careful steps, eyes wide and wary. When I sensed movement, I cast a shield, instantly blocking multiple incoming blasts. Through the dust and the flickering bursts striking my magic, I discerned the outlines of three Chitauri, each armed with handheld weapons.

Gritting my teeth, I thrust my barrier forward and watched as it swept them off their feet. Pulse roaring in my ears, I retrieved my sword from the corner of the room with the simple wrench of magic. I caught it midair and drew Silvertongue from its scabbard, letting the polished wood drop to the floor. I charged at the first Chitauri to climb to his feet, running him straight through.

While he crumpled to the ground, I tossed a bolt of energy at the second to rise, sending him soaring backwards into the streets of Puente Antiguo. The third to recover fired a shot at me from his prone position, and I rolled sideways, through the broken glass. Even then, I hadn't moved quite fast enough, for the flash of fire caught me in the side.

I fell on my back, crying out. Never had I been more thankful that I'd been wearing my armour throughout the day. Upon the Chitauri's approach, I leapt up and removed his arm, along with his weapon, in a single strike. The inhuman screech made my ears ring. I silenced him quickly, sliding Silvertongue into his throat.

Grimacing at the blue blood, I cast a barrier just seconds before the last remaining Chitauri took aim. I propelled my magic towards him, which he dodged with a somersault. He didn't seem to realize that I'd followed close behind my projection. By the time he rose, I had my blade in his gut. He let out a small yowl when I removed my sword and let him fall, dead.

With a shuddering breath, I went back inside and stared at the destruction the Chitauri wrought. One of the computers in the far back sported a large, smoking hole in its body. "Jane? Darcy?" I called. "Has anyone been harmed?"

From behind the upturned couch, Jane and Darcy emerged. Darcy gaped at the dead Chitauri. "Whoa."

I relaxed a touch, reaching down to pluck Silvertongue's scabbard from the glass. As I sheathed my sword, I wiped the blood from the scratches I'd received upon tumbling through the sharp fragments. Once my initial distress began to fade, I gazed down at the deceased, fear kindling in my heart. _Was it me they came for? Did I bring danger to these mortals like I feared?_

The two women came closer, treading slowly over the havoc. Jane balked at everything that had been ruined, though she seemed somewhat mollified by the sight of all that survived.

We all jolted at the sound of an approaching... car. Heart in my throat, I headed out onto the street, the overbearing New Mexico sun blinding me for but a moment. I gripped the hilt of my blade before seeing the three black cars advancing towards us—SHIELD, no doubt.

We stepped back when they stopped in front of the building, all doors opening near simultaneously. Several agents went about collecting the Chitauri remains, including their weapons. Agent Coulson came striding closer, and I loosened my hold on Silvertongue as we met in the street. Though his eyes were covered by his dark eyeglasses, I sensed he was scrutinizing each of us in turn. "Well, it looks like we showed up right on time."

"What in the world is happening?" Jane asked, her voice bordering on distraught. "I got a call about Tromsø and then everything is just..." She turned to survey her equipment, half of it broken and burnt. "Gone."

"I'm very sorry for what happened here, Miss Foster," Coulson said. "We'll be sure to help you replace and rebuild everything you've lost."

I watched a pair of SHIELD agents haul one of the bodies into the back of a car. "You arrived here quite promptly. Were you notified of what was happening?"

"We were—" Halting, he nodded to another agent. "We were coming here to speak with you about an unrelated incident." The downturn of his mouth was almost imperceptible. "Or so we thought."

My heart faltered. The tidings were not glad, that much I surmised. But I had to know. "Tell me of this incident."

"A SHIELD facility has been destroyed. The perpetrator is being apprehended in Germany as we speak," Coulson replied. What he said after that was something I was most unprepared for, "He claims to be from Asgard. Calls himself Loki."

It felt like a blow to the chest. My legs seemed ready to give way beneath me, but I managed to hold fast. "Loki?" I breathed. "Then he is alive..."

"Ah, so you do know him?" Coulson said, removing his eyeglasses. "Then it's not just a coincidence that you arrived exactly three days before him."

My eyes flicked up to meet his. "I... I admit that I was tasked with seeking him out. But I knew not if I was meant to find him living or dead."

Jane came to my side. "Wait. You think she had something to do with what happened?"

Agent Coulson simply gazed upon her. "Miss Foster, I suggest you pack lightly. Your chauffeur will be here soon." Then he returned his regard to me. "We know you had nothing to do with Loki. We've been monitoring you since the moment you touched down."

I lifted a brow. "Monitoring me?"

"Yes, we've been keeping an eye on all your activities. You practice with your sword every morning, and you only ever use magic when you think you're alone." I frowned, rather perturbed by the fact that he was aware of all my routines. Coulson was just about smiling now. "And you never drink the coffee Jane gives you. You always pour it down the drain when she's not looking."

If I hadn't been so disconcerted by everything Agent Coulson had imparted to me in the past few minutes, I might've felt embarrassed.

All the same, Darcy saw fit to chime in, "The coffee's really bad when Jane makes it." Even though Jane seemed ruffled by her comment, none of the SHIELD agents reacted.

"Your Highness." With a sober expression, Agent Coulson took three steps towards me. "We'd like your help."

* * *

**Author's Note:** We shall be meeting the Avengers soon!

As always, I extend my thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited. Thanks also to my beta, **Hr'awkryn**, for being fabulous.

Fun fact for those who don't speak Spanish or don't already know this bit of trivia: Puente Antiguo means "ancient bridge" in Spanish. It's just so fitting, I thought I'd mention it.

Please leave a review! I love hearing from you.


	4. Terrible Love

II.

* * *

**FOUR**

* * *

_terrible love_

* * *

My partings with Jane and Darcy were shorter lived than I would've liked. We lingered for a time outside Jane's defaced lodgings, waiting for the SHIELD agents to finish collecting particular pieces of the remnants. "I hope our paths will cross again someday," I said to them, Silvertongue in one hand and my satchel in the other. "Preferably in a much more pleasant manner."

Jane gave me a faint smile. "Thank you for... everything." She motioned to the disarray behind her, and I assumed she was referring to my defending them. I could not bear to think I was the harbinger of such destruction.

Even so, her words made my heart lift a little. I attempted to smile in return. "And you have my eternal gratitude for sparing me a place in your home."

Soon, we were being ushered off into two separate cars, and Darcy gave me a hearty wave as we diverged.

I sat in the backseat of a large vehicle with tinted windows, Agent Coulson beside me. I was told that we were going to an airport different from that of Jane and Darcy for 'safety reasons.' The very thought filled me with anxiety. What if the Chitauri struck again and they went after Jane and Darcy instead? I settled in my seat, my worries mildly allayed by the fact that they had a detail of two dozen SHIELD agents escorting them.

"I hope you're not afraid of flying," Coulson said.

I tensed and looked out the window, watching the vastness of the desert flicker by. "We shall see."

In a matter of twenty minutes, we reached the broad, paved expanse where numerous vehicles bearing wings waited to be taken to the skies. I climbed out of the car slowly, my hand laid on the scabbard at my side. Eyes darting about, I absorbed the sights and felt almost overcome by the fascinating display of human technology.

Several awaiting SHIELD agents approached to speak to Agent Coulson. "The quinjet is prepped and ready, sir," I overhead one saying.

Coulson nodded before turning to me. "If you'll follow me."

As he led me onto the aircraft, my trepidation swelled. I'd seen a variety of ships in my time, all of different sizes flying at different speeds. But this was no craft constructed by the finest engineers in Asgard. This was a Midgardian vehicle. They'd only just progressed beyond horseback riding. _My trust in these mortals is about to be tested_, I mused.

I sat and strapped myself to the chair with the aid of a SHIELD agent before watching the ramp close. Coulson situated himself on the opposite side of the craft, fiddling with a computer screen and various buttons. My stomach lurched when the quinjet jolted and began trundling forwards, everything in its interior rattling and shaking. When it began to pick up speed, I realized this was worse—much worse—than being subjected to Jane's driving. Or even the Bifrost. When travelling by the Bifrost, at least I did not believe crashing and dying was as much of a possibility.

We rose into the air, and I clutched onto my harness so tight that my knuckles turned white. Once we were level, and the nerve-wracking shuddering ceased, I loosened my hold and let out a breath. The helmsman's voice sounded throughout the metal contraption, "E.T.A. three hours, sir."

Agent Coulson stood from his seat in a surprisingly steady manner. I took notice of the sheet of glass in his hands, images glinting in the gloom of the quinjet. "I'd like to brief you on the proceedings thus far," he said, handing me what I realized was a tablet; Darcy had spent hours teaching me how to use one, although hers was not quite as large. "We've been assembling a number of people to help us in the defence against a common enemy."

My intrigue was piqued as I read profiles, watched videos, and observed images of three humans: Captain America, a soldier who'd been frozen in ice for seventy years; Bruce Banner whose rage could transform him into an enormous green being—I watched the accompanying video with avid fascination; and Tony Stark, a very wealthy man who'd built a suit of armour that contained a tremendous amount of firepower and lent him the ability to fly.

I almost laughed at how much the humans continued to surprise me still. Coulson glanced my way, his features unmoved, but I saw the curiosity in his gaze. "Before I came here, I was under the impression that you'd be living in the dark, riding horses, perhaps even worshipping the Asgardians like gods still. But much of what I've read is outdated, and now I see I was wrong," I said, resting the tablet in my lap. "Now you fly and you fight with the spirit of the finest warriors the Nine Realms had ever seen."

Coulson nodded. "Things change pretty quickly around here."

"It is quite unlike the realms I have resided in." I peered down at the tablet again, quietly observing various images of Captain America. "Last I heard of Midgard, you'd been at war." I recalled Loki's less than flattering opinion of the mortals. _Like animals fighting over a bone_. "Seventy years ago, I believe."

"That would've been the Second World War." Coulson gestured to the tablet where I'd stopped at a picture of Captain America standing amongst his company of 'Howling Commandos.' They seemed a rather formidable group of mortals. "That was the war Steve Rogers fought in before he was frozen in ice. He's a... living legend, really. There's never been anyone quite like him until now." I raised a brow at Agent Coulson, and he cleared his throat before pointing to the tablet once more. "You should see what we have on Thor."

I did as he suggested and beheld the videos of Thor battling the Destroyer. It was just as Jane and Darcy had described to me: the Destroyer came close to levelling the entirety of Puente Antiguo. It had come close to killing my friends. With a faint voice, I said, "Yes, I have been told much of Thor's time in Midgard."

Leaning over me, Coulson tapped on the corner of the screen. I sat back, my stomach roiling when images of Loki arose—images from the SHIELD facility previously mentioned to me. He appeared ill, his skin pale, his hair longer, bruise-like shadows settled beneath his eyes. He looked drained, to say the least. Like he had after I absorbed his magic during our time in Svartalfheim. It made me think he'd wandered the Nine Realms for a whole year with no thought to himself. He must've been so alone.

I skimmed the report detailing how he'd teleported into the SHIELD facility bearing a sceptre of considerable might. A sceptre that he used to garner control over a number of SHIELD agents and, to my surprise, Erik Selvig.

"What can you tell us about Loki?"

Swallowing, I met Agent Coulson's unfailingly stoic gaze. "Likely nothing more than you are already aware of." I nodded to the screen. "He is of Asgard, brother to Thor... the destruction of the Bifrost was his doing, at least in part. I was tasked with seeking him out by the queen."

"Which queen?"

"Queen Frigga. She is Loki's mother." I frowned. "Or... adoptive mother, I suppose."

"So you spent time among the Asgardians?"

I nodded. "It was a very long time ago."

"Did you know them well?"

Worrying my bottom lip, I refrained from telling him about my rather intimate relationship with Loki; I very much doubted SHIELD would take kindly to that. "Not well enough, apparently."

"He's taken the Tesseract," Coulson said. "What do you know about that?"

The fact that he'd taken the Tesseract surprised me, but it was not difficult to fathom. It was a powerful relic that anyone would've wished to wield to further their ends. Though I could not guess as to why Loki would desire such a thing.

Lowering the tablet, I shook my head. "Very little," I admitted. There had been some notes about the Tesseract and the other Infinity Stones in one of Loki's journals. They'd been hidden in different places on different worlds—all of which was kept secret. Midgard seemed as good of a hiding place as any. It was, however, most startling to learn that the humans had long had it in their possession. "The Tesseract holds great power. It is not something to be trifled with."

He gave a curt nod. "We know. That's why we're doing everything we can to recover it."

The apprehension I felt only continued to grow. In times like these, I wished more than anything that I had someone at my side. Someone who could help me forge the right path. I'd been so accustomed to having the company of a familiar that I felt so... lost by my lonesome. Like a solitary bird meandering in the middle of the ocean.

I thought of Castien and Faradei, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three. All people I trusted. All people whom I cared for deeply. But, of everyone I ever loved, I found myself yearning for Loki's company most of all. It was his guidance and care that I valued most. It was a terrible irony.

I pressed a hand to my chest and felt the pattering of my heart. "You professed you needed my help. In what way, exactly?"

"You have a very particular set of skills that may be of use to us," he said. "And you know more about Loki than any of us do."

I gave him a wry look. "I am no match for Loki, physically or otherwise. I never have been, I know that well. I could not subdue him now, especially with this"—I motioned to the tablet— "this sceptre you claim he wields."

"There's strength in numbers," Coulson told me. "We'd like to have you there just to be on the safe side."

That was a request I could not argue against.

In the hours it took to reach our destination, I continued to peruse the files concerning persons and incidents of interest. More often than not, I found myself gazing upon the one image they had of Loki. It filled me with such conflict; I was elated to see him alive, yet horrified by what he had done. He had killed near a dozen SHIELD personnel within the span of a minute. In the moments that followed, he'd taken the Tesseract, along with a number of SHIELD agents, and destroyed the facility in his wake.

What had me rather perplexed was his supposed intention. According to SHIELD's records, he had come to conquer Midgard, to take away their freedom. I had a difficult time comprehending why he would wish to do so, after all that had happened. _He wandered the Nine Realms for a year, and now he yearns to rule over the mortals?_ It was a baffling thought. The one thing I did understand was that his taking of the Tesseract could only lend to a very treacherous scheme.

The deceleration of the quinjet was distinctive, and—now feeling much safer after hours of flight—I stood from my seat to hover behind the helmsman's chair. Agent Coulson joined my side, and together we watched as our port of call drew closer. Sometime during our journey, Coulson had said we were going to the SHIELD 'Helicarrier.' I hadn't understood what that meant. I certainly did not expect to see a floating airfield—a massive facility. Like a castle in the sky.

Though I clutched onto the bars overhead for dear life, the landing occurred without any disturbance. High winds howled as we exited the craft and crossed the landing area of the Helicarrier. I all but ran in Agent Coulson's wake to enter the flying fortress.

Everything inside was metal and glass and bright lights bearing down upon us. He led me through various corridors and doors, dozens of SHIELD agents passing us by. Although I felt extremely out of place, not a one blinked twice at me.

When we strode onto the bridge of the Helicarrier, my breath deserted me. The entire front was made up of glass, giving an unobstructed view of the sky and the clouds below us. Dozens upon dozens of SHIELD operators were striding back and forth, keeping the airborne castle in the sky. I'd always thought it a magnificent sight: the crew of a ship working together in harmony, like every root and leaf of a flower. But this was on a much grander scale.

"Sir." Agent Coulson walked to the edge of the upper platform where two men and a woman stood. I approached them slowly, while Coulson spoke to the man in the black leather coat, "I've brought the princess in."

All four of the mortals turned to face me at once. Coulson saw fit to introduce the woman and the man that I recognized from one of the files. "Your Highness, this is Doctor Bruce Banner and Agent Maria Hill, Deputy Director of SHIELD." He nodded to me in turn. "This is Eirlys of Alfheim."

Agent Hill offered me a perfunctory nod and nothing more.

Bruce Banner shook my hand. "Hi, nice to meet you," he said. His manner was serene for a man whose rage could literally change him—though I supposed that was a good thing.

"Likewise, Doctor."

"Agent Hill, see to it that Doctor Banner receives access to everything he needs," said the as-of-yet unnamed man.

As Agent Hill led Doctor Banner away, the man turned to me, watching me with his one eye; I was distinctly reminded of the All-Father. "Glad you could join us. I'm Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."

"I am glad to be of service, Director," I replied, laying a hand over my heart as I bowed my head. "It is the least I can do... although I admit I am not entirely certain how much use I can be to you."

"You _are_ familiar with Loki, are you not?"

I glanced at Agent Coulson who remained close by, his expression as passive as ever. "Yes, indeed I am."

"Then you know more about him than any of us," Director Fury said. "We have our people apprehending him as we speak. When we bring him in, I intend to do everything in my power to extract the answers we seek."

My stomach churned at the implication. "Everything and anything?"

"If it comes down to it," he told me. Tensing, I met his unflinching gaze. If they intended to unleash a torrent of pain upon him, I would have no part in it. But that did not mean I could stop them, even if I tried. "Will that pose a problem?"

"Would it make any difference if it did?" I asked.

"Probably not."

"Then let us hope that will not become our only recourse."

He had little more to say after that.

With our exchange ended, Director Fury returned to his duties, and I was escorted further across the bridge.

At Agent Coulson's request, I 'made myself at home.' By the far end of the bridge, just before the windows, I sat cross-legged to watch the clouds float past. Try as I might, the serene sight could not bring me any peace of mind. So, in whatever semblance of solitude I had, I drew my sword, cleaning and sharpening it without a word. Coulson hovered behind me at all times, a SHIELD tablet in hand. He feigned deep concentration, but I sensed his gaze on me time and again.

I could not help but wonder what it was the mortals intended to do with the Tesseract. At first, my assumption had been that they hoped to return it to safety and nothing more. But that was an admittedly naive thought. The mortals meant to use it themselves, and they could not be trusted to wield an item of such immense power in a just manner. I imagined Odin would have been disinclined to allow their use of it—not that I had any authority to act on his behalf.

As of now, my concern lay with Loki. After learning what he had done, I knew not what to think. It could not have been mere coincidence that the Chitauri would attack Alfheim days before Loki struck at the mortals. My worst fear was something I did not wish to dwell upon, but it was also the most logical assumption. _The timing is highly suspect_, I thought. _Could he have allied himself with the Mad Titan?_ Staring down at my hands, I shook my head at myself. I wanted to see Loki before further entertaining such notions.

"We've got transport eight-one-five coming in."

Turning away from the night sky, I peered over my shoulder to gaze upon the SHIELD operator who'd spoken. The announcement was clearly significant, for a number of the crew began scrambling about to carry out various unspoken commands. _They've apprehended Loki_, I realized. _And now he's here. Aboard this very aircraft_. My heart twisted with a trepidation the likes of which I'd never suffered before.

Coulson remained nearby, his gaze meeting mine. "They're taking Loki into custody," he said to me. "And they've got an extra passenger." As he drew nearer, he flipped his tablet around to allow my observation.

The sight of Thor disembarking a quinjet made me launch to my feet. "Thor is here?" A momentary relief flooded me in spite of the lingering despair. I surmised the All-Father had sent him. Though whether he was here for Loki or for the Tesseract, I could not be certain.

"You might want to see this too." He tapped the edge of the screen, and the image of a long, empty hall appeared. I furrowed my brow, to which he replied, "Wait for it."

And then I saw him—_Loki_.

My breathing ceased as I watched over a dozen SHIELD agents escort him down the corridor. A dozen very well-armed SHIELD agents. It made him seem all the more intimidating. And yet, even with all those agents, I found myself doubting that they could subdue him if he attempted escape.

The moment he strode out of the camera's view, Coulson lowered his tablet and shut it off. I could feel him observing me, as if awaiting my reaction. But I simply nodded my thanks.

Without missing a beat, he said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to debrief certain members of our team."

"Of course, Agent Coulson."

He left me standing there, solitary and empty. The image of Loki being taken into custody was seared into my mind. It blotted out all other thought until Agent Maria Hill re-entered the bridge, shouting an order to a crew member who went about fulfilling the request with perfect efficiency. A second woman followed shortly after her—another SHIELD agent, or so I assumed. She had hair of vibrant red that reminded me of my fellow Vanir.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I sheathed Silvertongue and made my way across the room. Curious and unsure all at once, I lingered by the triangular glass table and awaited Thor's arrival. The red-haired agent spoke in low tones to Agent Hill before rounding the table to sit. She gave me scarcely more than a second glance.

A man came marching onto the bridge next, and I immediately recognized him from the files Agent Coulson showed me. He seemed familiar with everyone else on the bridge, seeing as his regard skipped across all others before coming to a rest on me. There was a questioning smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he made his approach.

"Well met." I held a hand out to him, hoping it was the correct gesture to offer. "I am the Lady Eirlys."

"Steve Rogers." I was relieved when he shook my hand. "Didn't know we had another Asgardian walking among us," he commented lightly.

My brow rose. "Well, I am not Asgardian," I replied. "Not precisely."

If he meant to continue the conversation, the opportunity was lost.

I heard Thor seconds before I saw him. The sound of his heavy footsteps was something I could never forget. The moment he entered the bridge, his gaze was quick to fall upon me. He blinked, apparently surprised by my presence.

For the first time in days, I positively beamed. "Thor," I breathed. "No words can express how glad I am to see you."

He smiled in return, sweeping across the platform to draw me into a hug. His embrace was so tight that my ribs ached, but I cared not. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed him in kind. It took all my willpower not to weep in his familiar hold.

"Heimdall told me you were on Earth," Thor said, pulling away. I took a meticulous look at him and saw that he too had grown his hair longer—though he looked to be in far better health than Loki. "I did not think to find you here."

Tears brimmed in my eyes. "Then you have heard what has transpired in Alfheim."

"Yes." Whatever joy he'd possessed melted into a sombre mood. "I was most sorry to hear about Castien."

"We lost many that day," I said, my posture slackening. "And that is why I am here. I came to seek justice for what has befallen my people."

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "We should have been there."

I shook my head. "I would not have you fretting over what has already come to pass."

Although his expression was soft, I could see the underlying remorse. "How have you fared, Eirlys?"

"I am well."

"How have you truly fared."

Lifting my gaze to meet his, I tried not to allow my voice to tremble. "Truth be told, I do not know." At the very least, I felt exhausted, albeit not physically so. I hadn't allowed myself much time to grieve the death of a friend. Discovering the wrongs Loki had committed only added to my grief.

Thor's hands slid along my arms before falling to his sides. "Perhaps you should not have come."

I frowned at that. "What has brought you here? Did you come to seek the Tesseract or did you hope to bring Loki home?"

"I have every intention of doing both," he replied.

Our attention was diverted when Doctor Banner sauntered onto the bridge. He paused, looking at the two of us, seemingly startled by the sight. Nevertheless, he pressed forwards, going around to stand by the triangular table. "Fury's about to have a little chat with our newest intern," he said, jabbing at the glass surface. "Thought you all might like to watch the show."

Thor and I exchanged a look. A part of me was afraid to hear what Loki had to say. What I feared even more was the lengths Director Fury would go to wrest answers from him. I knew Loki to be steadfast in his resolve. The mortals would not retrieve the information they sought.

Despite my apprehension, Thor nodded to Doctor Banner who then prodded the tabletop once more.

A chill flowed through my veins when I heard Loki's voice echoing in the bridge. Thor became motionless, whereas I moved towards the table to see the image of Loki standing within a cylindrical glass prison. He was speaking to Director Fury, his words scathing.

While I listened, I felt that sense of discord burgeoning within me again. There was dismay for his remarks, yet I was overjoyed to hear his voice, the deep timbre I'd grown so fond of. Taking in a quavering breath, I continued to watch as Loki mocked Fury, his conceit and contempt on display for all to see. When the conversation concluded with the humans no closer to finding the Tesseract, I averted my gaze and tried to ignore the thundering of my heart.

"Loki's gonna drag this out," Captain Rogers said, looking up at us from his seat at the table. "So, Thor, what's his play?"

"He has an army." Thor crossed his arms and spared me a glance; already, I discerned that the subsequent tidings weren't going to be welcome in the slightest. "It is he who commands the Chitauri."

The blood in my face drained away until I was utterly numb. "Are you certain?"

"Heimdall has assured me this is true," Thor replied.

There was nothing more I could say to that.

He looked round at the mortals gathered. "Loki means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

"So, he's building another portal," Doctor Banner said, "with the Cube..."

Even as the others in the room carried on with their discourse, I was no longer able to heed their words. Loki could not have commanded the Chitauri to besiege Alfheim. I refused to believe it. I held fast to the notion that the Mad Titan was the instigator, that it was this Titan who was the true commander of the Chitauri. The Mad Titan had a penchant for collecting objects of great might—the sceptre could have been one of those items. _He has given it to Loki, along with the Chitauri_, I told myself. I was sure of it.

I rotated about, resting a hand upon the grip of my sword, as if it were the only thing keeping me steady. Agent Hill stood nearby, her arms crossed as she took in the proceedings. Her attention strayed solely upon my approach. "Agent Maria Hill." I paused to clear my throat. "Might I have words with Loki?"

She surveyed those at my back before nearing. "I'm sure you realize what Director Fury intends."

My jaw tensed. "Yes, I am fully aware. I wish to pose my questions first—about this army, about the Tesseract." I lifted my brow. "In a peaceful manner, of course."

"That's not my call to make," she said.

I assumed she was referring to Director Fury. In a gesture of respect, I placed a hand over my heart. "Please, ask the one whose decision it is to make. I have been most anxious to speak with him."

For a moment, Agent Hill did nothing more than regard me. From her dispassionate expression, I thought she would deny my request. But then she touched a hand to the device tucked in her ear and murmured some choice words that I could not discern. I shifted, ill at ease, until she called over the female who'd been sitting at the table, "Agent Romanoff." Again, she spoke to her in hushed tones.

Hill stepped back, and the other woman turned to me and said, "Follow me."

I inhaled deeply and strode in her wake. Walking round the table, I paused when Thor stepped in my path. The look he gave me was most solemn. He had to have known that I was going to see Loki. And he must've known I would not like what his brother had to say, for he appeared on the verge of deterring me.

Before he could utter a word, I shook my head. "I have to see him, Thor."

Thor nodded in return, though his visible concern did not wane.

Trailing behind Agent Romanoff, I took my leave from the bridge. We travelled down numerous corridors with only the erratic beating of my heart to fill my ears. The SHIELD agent escorting me said nothing, nor did she seem interested in acknowledging my presence. But I could feel her attention on me, as surreptitious as it was. They were not doing me a service, I knew. She was here to surveil me.

Upon descending several flights of stairs, we slowed to a stop where Romanoff leaned over a device attached to the wall. I twisted my hands together and willed my stomach to cease its churning. When the door slid open, near soundless, I stood tall, my posture stiff. "I presume you will be listening," I said to Agent Romanoff.

She inclined her head to the side. "It's what I do."

"Most understandable."

Feeling oddly small, I peered through the door to catch a glimpse of the glass prison. From this angle, I could not see Loki, but knowing that he was there filled me with such dread. With a deep, quavering breath, I cast Agent Romanoff one final look before entering the room.

My steps were muted on the metal grating as I strode farther in. He was sitting on the bench built into the cage, set against the far wall. When I began making my way round his prison, he looked up at last. My gaze held his, and I remembered the last time I'd beheld his eyes; there had been such coldness... such pain. At this distance, I could see none of this. Only an impassive stare.

I came to a stop at the edge of the grating, where the metal touched the glass. At first, neither of us said a word. I merely observed him, and he merely observed me. He didn't seem surprised by my appearance in the slightest. "You look unwell, Loki."

He made no reaction to my remark. "Let me guess," he said, "the All-Father sent you."

"No." My brow cinched. "As a matter of fact, it was your mother who asked me to seek you out."

The slight downturn of his mouth disappeared as quickly as it came.

Lowering my eyes, I took a step closer. "I spent the better part of a year searching for you. In my heart, I believed you alive... just... not like this." When I peered up at him once more, my vision was hazy. "I should be happy to have found you. But now that I have, I know not what I should feel."

The smile he gave me was devoid of all humour. "I'm sorry to be _such_ a disappointment. And you came all this way." He stood from his seat then, and I fought the urge to back away. "But you must be so glad the Light Elves have set you loose from your gilded cage."

My eyes narrowed. "I left of my own accord." I grasped onto Silvertongue's hilt out of a need to clench my hand around something. "Castien is dead. The Chitauri saw to that."

"Oh yes, I've been told." This time it was he who drew nearer to the glass. "Did you weep for your husband? This is tragedy at its finest: the death of a prince followed by the death of his king. And here you are, mere days later. You haven't even bothered to go into mourning, I see."

The accusation burned. "My new king lost a most beloved brother," I retorted. "He asked me here to discover he who commands the Chitauri—he who struck Alfheim. And I have found you." I shook my head, desperately trying to ignore the idea that it was Loki who issued the order to strike Alfheim. _No, he would never_, I told myself. He would never let anything befall me. Not after everything we'd been through. Not after everything he did to protect me. "I know someone has granted you both the army and the sceptre. Was it the Mad Titan? What was his price?"

Loki laughed, the very act of it a mockery. Boiling blood seared through me while he spoke, "You are a simpleton to think that I would offer you the answers you seek. Did you delude yourself into thinking I would? Because we were once lovers?" My heart dipped when he glanced up at the camera lodged in the junction of the wall and the ceiling. He knew as well as I that the mortals were listening. He was trying to plant the seeds of distrust. "I admit bewilderment that they would allow you in here. Unless, of course, you did not enlighten them as to our shared past."

"I did not think it pertinent," I said, hoping that my voice did not shake. "After all, you have made it quite clear that my feelings for you mean nothing." Taking in a shuddering breath, I pressed my hand flat against the glass. "Loki... what has happened to you?"

With the lift of his brow, he shortened the distance between us until he was within arm's reach. Yet I could not touch him. "I have seen things, Eirlys." The sound of my name on his tongue made my throat tighten. "I have learned things you could never possibly conceive. I expect you would never understand."

"And now you are here, unleashing war upon these mortals?" I questioned. "Just tell me why. Why are you doing this?"

He spread his hands as though the answer stood before him. "'Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.'"

I all but recoiled. "You are not God, Loki. You are not their god."

"Am I not?" One of those familiar smirks made an appearance. "They are nothing but creatures to be lorded over. For as long as humans have had reign over Earth, they have slain one another and marred their beloved world. I have every intention of ending their folly."

"You are mad to think this is the solution." I felt a terrible prickling heat crawl up my neck. "Dominating them with war to keep them from warring? This is a confused logic."

"Is it?" Loki stood mere inches from me now, and I felt compelled to let my hand fall from the glass. If it hadn't been for the barrier between us, I was certain I would've felt the chill from his body. "We could put a stop to their senseless violence. With no power to take, the mortals need no longer oppose one another. Aren't you weary of the fighting? Of having to defend the innocent from those who seek to destroy?"

Outrage bloomed within me. "How dare you? I just witnessed my home—my friends—suffer devastation at the hands of the Chitauri. You would let innocents die to have your way." I backed away from him. "You are not yourself, Loki. You speak of ending their folly, yet you do not see the folly in this?"

For a moment, he did not say anything. He simply looked upon me, brow furrowed. And I thought for a second that he'd heeded my words. That he would conclude this nonsense and tell the mortals everything they wished to know. And maybe, just maybe, we could go back to Asgard together as I'd spent the past year hoping we would.

But he donned a smile and said, "It would be an even greater folly to turn back now." By then, I knew I didn't want to hear him speak any further. The world was spinning before me, and I knew I had to escape his company. He seemed to follow me around the room while I attempted to take my leave. "I was always meant to be a king, Eirlys."

I paused to look at him, to observe his pale features and cold eyes. "No, you weren't, and you know it," I told him.

He could not conjure a response to that, it seemed.

I couldn't say why I expected him to heed me. He'd failed to do so in the past, and he would no doubt continue to do so in the future. Shaking my head, I forced myself to turn away and slip through the door without another word.

Agent Romanoff was leaning against the wall beside the doorway upon my exit. My voice shook when I murmured to her in passing, "I think I've heard enough."

As I walked down the corridor, not once looking behind, I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Before anybody mentions it, I apologize for Tony Stark's absence in this chapter. I know some of you were looking forward to seeing him. But fret not, he shall be in the next chapter!

Special thanks to all my readers and to those who favourited, followed, and reviewed. **Hr'awkryn**, my dear beta, you are the absolute best.

The title of this chapter is a reference to the song _Terrible Love_ by the National.


	5. Bloodstained Hands

II.

* * *

**FIVE**

* * *

_bloodstained hands_

* * *

The halls were quiet. I paced them with slow, aimless steps. Beneath my numbness, there was pure exhaustion. After all the events of the past week, I wanted to curl up in a corner by my lonesome and weep. But I would not. I refused. Loki's words had been cruel and cold, and I didn't know why I expected any different; our last conversation in the throne room of Asgard hadn't been all that pleasant either.

I continued through the corridors of the Helicarrier, persistent in my search for a place of solitude. But my search was brought to an abrupt halt by the faint thrum of magic. I could sense it, feel it tingling along the surface of my skin. Pressing past several SHIELD agents, I followed the strong and unfamiliar presence.

Upon turning left into a large, open doorway, I froze at the sight of two men. Doctor Banner and the affluent mortal, Tony Stark, glanced my way in synchrony. My flesh prickled at the sight of Doctor Banner's pity—or perhaps it was empathy. Either way, it made me all too aware that they'd been witnesses to our conversation. And it was not welcome.

"I apologize," I said, standing stiffly in the centre of the room. "I seem to be quite lost." Looking about the otherwise empty chamber, I noted there was no entity in the room that could emanate such an energy signature, even if the feeling lingered.

On the other hand, I had found a room of relative tranquillity. Though that wasn't saying much. "Might I remain here for a time?" I asked. "I am in need of a quiet place to sit and... think."

Doctor Banner smiled and pulled out a swivelling chair. "You might be a little disappointed. I wouldn't exactly call this a quiet place to think." He gave Tony Stark a pointed look, to which the mortal feigned offence.

"My thanks, Doctor Banner." I returned his kindness before easing myself onto the chair. In the presence of these mortals, I felt small and childish. I felt like such a fool.

Tony Stark crossed the room and held out a hand to me. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

There was something familiar about his voice. Like I'd heard it in a dream. Considering our circumstances, it was not an unusual thought. My visions forewarned me of the path Loki would take, and the path led here.

I shook his hand. "I know who you are, Tony Stark."

He looked startled—another feigned expression, I suspected. "Wow, am I famous off-planet too?"

"I read your file."

"And I read yours," Tony Stark replied, sidling back over to the immense glass screen. "It was a little on the light side. Could've used some more about your boyfriend." He turned the screen towards me to show video of Loki in his cage—he was pacing now, appearing deep in thought. "That was quite a show you put on in there."

Sighing, I ran a hand over my face. "Ah, yes. I have only just learned there is no such thing as privacy among mortals."

With a soft laugh, Doctor Banner peeked around the edge of his computer screen. "If you're looking for privacy, you've definitely come to the wrong place."

I allowed myself a dry smile. "So it seems."

"So, you and Loki, huh?" Tony Stark said, tossing back a handful of whatever was in the little pouch he carried. "I have to say I'm a little surprised. Wouldn't have figured he was your type. Him being, you know, crazy and all."

I frowned and rested my elbows on the table set before me. "He has not always been this way," I murmured. "I know not how he came upon such gross notions. It just sounds... so unlike him."

Doctor Banner lifted a brow. "What? You think someone else is pulling the strings?"

"There has to be." My gaze fell upon the mystical weapon sitting on the table across from me. It was not an individual whose potent magic I sensed in this chamber. _It's the sceptre_, I swiftly realized. "Someone gave that—the sceptre—to him, as well as the army. They are not his. He did not conjure them. They serve another. He has to pay his price for them, and that price is the Tesseract." I shifted in my seat. "He would not have given the command to besiege my home."

"Wait, hold on, that's a lot of assuming here." Pushing aside one of the screens, Tony Stark crossed his arms and leaned against one of the desks. "You think Loki wouldn't hurt you? Why? Because you still have the hots for him?" An unpleasant heat crept up my neck again, as it was wont to do as of late. "In case you haven't noticed, he's not exactly mentally stable. So, I kinda doubt he's in a caring mood."

I shook my head. "No, I... I don't believe that." With a quaking breath, I levelled my gaze with his. "Have you ever been betrayed by someone you care for? Someone who cared for you? Someone who you trusted with your life, and in the end you're left wondering how it turned out so... wrong."

He blinked. For a moment, I thought he would express alikeness, but he merely said, "Can't say that I have."

"Then you are far more blessed than I." By this point, I knew I was just saying things I should not, but it couldn't be helped. The words simmered inside me, at last roiling and spilling over. "I have seen what he has done, the people he's killed, and I know what he intends. Yet, despite all of the horrors and the callousness, I still care for him. It drives me mad that I still—" I stopped short of stating such a truth to these two strangers. That I still loved him. "I cannot find it within myself to believe he hasn't a care for me. Because even I cannot hate him for all he's done."

A long, tense moment of silence followed, and I thought I'd said something terribly wrong. Perhaps I did, admitting that my care for Loki remained. It was an easy way to lose trust among the mortals. But then the corner of Tony Stark's mouth turned upwards, and he held out the pouch in his hands. "Blueberry?" he offered. "They're chocolate-covered. You look like you need it."

My cheeks felt aflame as I held out a hand. "Yes, thank you."

After pouring me a handful, Tony Stark tossed back a few more. "I'd offer you a drink, but I'm still doing sweeps for Fury's stash."

I poked at the little chocolate-covered berries before eating them one at a time. It did lift my spirits a touch. Enough to make the ensuing quietude comforting.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, felt compelled to fill the silence. "You know what, I should introduce you to a friend of mine. He hasn't been very lucky with the ladies lately—maybe it's a princess he needs."

I gave him a peculiar look. "The thought is kind, Tony Stark, but I don't believe it is a lack of men in my life that is the problem."

"Just trying to spread the love."

Thereafter, I spoke not a word. The mortals continued to converse, though Doctor Banner appeared less eager to do so. In my silence, I reflected on my conversation with Loki. It was the first time we'd spoken in a year, and it had been... harrowing. The entire time I sought him, I had not expected to find him like this. There had once been a hope that our reunion would be far more pleasant than it had been in the throne room, but now that hope was dead and gone.

I leaned forwards on the table, feeling more tired than I should have. Sitting in its stand across from me, the sceptre drew my attention as before. I surveyed the crystal in its head, hypnotized by the swirling blue. The magic was strong—very strong. There was no doubt in my mind that it had come from the Mad Titan. He had sent the Dark Elves to Asgard to obtain the Casket of Ancient Winters, if not other relics. He had gifted them with weapons. It was easy to believe this sceptre was part of his arsenal. And now he wanted the Tesseract.

It hurt to think that Loki had gone to the Mad Titan and forged an accord. Regardless of everything we suffered at his hand, Loki still went to him. He'd found a way to locate the Mad Titan, but not once did he come to me. He could have ventured to Alfheim, but he never did. _His despair runs deep_, I thought. _All his resentment, his envy, his rage towards Thor—towards me—now stood plainly before us_.

A shudder rippled through me. After regarding the sceptre for so long, strange shadows seemed to creep into my vision. I blinked and looked away, fighting the peculiar feeling. Even then, the darkness lingered. A sharp ringing filled my ears, and I pressed a hand to my brow before rising from my seat.

I asked for my pardons and all but stumbled away from the table. Tony Stark and Doctor Banner carried on, wordless, while I meandered across the room. I felt their stares boring into my back until I slipped through the door and out of their sight. My ears seemed to burn as I stalked the corridors; I did not doubt they would speak of me in the wake of my exit.

It was not long before I found my way to the Helicarrier's bridge. A new day was dawning, and the clouds ahead were aglow. I almost took umbrage at the beautiful sight that contradicted the gloom hanging overhead. With slow steps, I passed by Agent Hill and crossed the walkway down the centre of the bridge. Several SHIELD agents glanced my way, some gazes lingering longer than others.

Thor stood at the end, near touching the window, Agent Coulson by his elbow. They were not speaking, yet they appeared comfortable in their silence. When I approached, Thor was the first to turn. In the burgeoning light of day, I was able to properly contemplate him. It felt odd to look upon him. He reminded me of happier times, of days when we were young and carefree. I half-expected him to grace me with one of his large grins, but it never materialized.

"I can only assume you heard our conversation," I said, coming to a rest just beside him.

"Yes." Thor frowned, facing the window once more. "Loki always had a talent for words."

Agent Coulson made his excuses and sited himself in front of a computer, out of earshot.

I gave him a small, grateful smile before returning my regard to Thor. "Did you hear the same sort of nonsense from him earlier?"

"I have taken heed of every word of madness twice over now. He has expressed to you all that he has said to me."

"He is not himself. He has lost his way." Sighing faintly, I pinched the bridge of my nose. There was an ache in my head same as there was an ache in my heart. "His mind has become so steeped in... I don't know—delusion? Someone has taken advantage of that."

"I fear he may be beyond our reach," Thor said. We exchanged a solemn look. I didn't want to agree with him, but neither could I refute him; my words alone had had little effect on Loki, and it was unlikely they would any time soon. "I have come to fear that he led the Chitauri to Alfheim. Although Heimdall bore witness to the attack, he cannot be certain of who commanded them."

"It wasn't him," I said, now with greater conviction. "It was the Mad Titan."

Thor looked down at me, brow dipping. "Are you certain?"

"I cannot be wholly assured," I admitted. "But the weapons the Chitauri bore are the same as those carried by the Dark Elves when they laid siege to Asgard all those years ago. They also made certain that King Tylock did not live to see another day. He had reneged on an accord he'd forged with a stranger seventy years past, a stranger I suspect to be the Mad Titan."

His head canted to the side. "An accord for what?"

"When he made his threats to go with war with Asgard, he had possession of an army," I replied. "It was loaned in exchange for something—what it was, we do not know. He did not pay, so he paid with his life."

"The evidence is compelling." Thor nodded. "And now you believe Loki has made a similar agreement with the Mad Titan?"

"Yes, I fear Loki discovered him," I said, folding my arms over my midsection. "An army in exchange for the Tesseract. We must put an end to it before it's too late."

There was something dark in his expression. "You are aware that the humans will go to all lengths to procure the answers they seek."

"I am aware." I tried to wet my dry lips, but to no avail. "Let us hope they will not have to take extreme measures. Is there any chance that he may yet heed us? Either of us?"

"I doubt it." He bowed his head as the first rays of the rising sun illuminated his features. The daylight did nothing to chase away the shadows. "I have had Sif tell me that envy has driven him to this. And I see now that she was not mistaken." When his shining blue eyes met mine, my chest tightened. "He feels he has been wronged. By all of us."

"Perhaps there is some truth in that." At the furrow of his brow, I smiled ruefully. "Have I not wronged him?"

"Eirlys, the deeds of the past needn't be dwelled upon," Thor said, laying a hand on my shoulder. "You had no choice in the matter."

"Did I not?" My voice shook as I imparted to him something that had previously gone unspoken, "The night before my wedding, he bade me to leave with him, to... to escape everything that threatened to tear us apart. He wanted us to leave Asgard and forsake all we knew." I saw the unmistakeable widening of his eyes. "Never before have I told anyone this. And I see he has never told you either."

"Loki keeps his secrets as easily as he tells his lies."

The sheer truth of his statement almost made me laugh. Almost. "He dwells upon matters of the past." Hand to my brow, I shook my head. "This is not the first time he has spoken uncaring words to me. When he sat upon the throne of Asgard, I quarrelled with him—I asked him to bring you home, and for that, he banished me."

He blinked down at me. "Truly?"

I nodded. "There is a bitterness in him. And I cannot help but wonder if I am somehow, in some measure, responsible."

"Do not heed his words, Eirlys." Thor turned to me to grasp both my shoulders. "I would not have you abandon hope."

"Hope for what? That he will tell us where the Tesseract is?" I said. "I do not doubt we will find a way—if not us, the humans will." Reaching up, I clasped his forearm. "If you mean for me to cling onto hope for... for things to be the way they were, I fear that hope has begun to burn away."

He squeezed my shoulders. "I am sorry, Eirlys."

With a heavy sigh, I lifted my eyes to meet his. "Is it not I who should be sorry?"

"I'm sorry to have to interrupt."

Thor's hands dropped to his sides, and we both looked to see a SHIELD agent nearing. The agent adjusted his eyeglasses as he glanced between the two of us. "Thor, Director Fury would like to see you in the lab."

Thor nodded his thanks prior to returning his gaze to me. His distinctive sober air did not escape my notice, and it struck me again, how different he seemed. He'd been all grins and good cheer in the long years I'd known him. But there was no trace of that anymore. "I would speak with you later," he told me.

Uttering nothing in response, I watched while he followed the SHIELD agent across the bridge and through one of the doors on the far side. Once he disappeared from sight, I angled myself towards the window, squinting in the morning light. The sound of approaching footsteps was easily distinguishable; from the corner of my eye, I realized it was Agent Coulson who'd come to join me. He stood, arms crossed, his focus on the clouds below.

"Come to keep vigilance over me, Agent Coulson?"

Glancing my way, he straightened a little. "You haven't been entirely forthcoming with us."

"No, perhaps not," I agreed, dropping my eyes to the ground. "But I assure you, whatever feelings I may have for Loki... they will not keep me from bringing an end to his schemes." _For his sake, as much as anyone else's_, I thought.

There was a lingering moment of silence before it came too painful to bear. "I admit, it was unwise of me not to divulge my relationship with Loki. But I feared losing your trust if the truth was made known." I gave him a chagrinned look. "Though I must have lost some of your trust by not telling you earlier."

Coulson shrugged. "Maybe you did, but we won't hang you for it."

I smiled slightly, and we settled into a mutual stillness.

Minutes meandered by. I stared out the window, an uncomfortable chill seeping through my every fibre. With every moment I spent in Midgard, my doubts and unease continued to accumulate. I'd come to Midgard with thoughts of hunting the Mad Titan—a foolhardy endeavour to begin with, verily. But now, Loki had become my greatest lead to finding him. And there was no certainty that he would tell me anything.

I feared that Director Fury would do as he'd warned and go to great lengths to procure answers from Loki. At first, I had doubted that such measures would be necessary. But the humans were running out of time, and neither my words nor Thor's seemed to sway him. Still, I cherished one last shred of hope. I did not believe Thor would be so willing to renounce his brother. Together, perhaps there was a chance that Thor and I could get through to Loki.

My quiet rumination came to an abrupt conclusion at the sound of Thor's voice. It was strange and distant—he was not on the bridge. Brow furrowed, I peered over my shoulder, towards one of the screens by the stairs; beside me, Agent Coulson did the same. As I drew closer, I could see Thor standing amongst several others in Doctor Banner's lab looking none too pleased with Director Fury.

I surmised that this assembly was the reason why Thor had been called away from the bridge. It did not elude me that I had been left out of the discourse. "Should we not interfere?" I asked Agent Coulson.

He leaned forward to press a button that muted the sound. "Probably not a good idea."

Lowering my eyes, I turned away from the screen to face him. "I do not blame you for wanting to conceal SHIELD's intentions from me," I said. "Even so, I cannot keep from worrying about what it is you have planned." I twisted my hands together and met his gaze. "I may have no right, but I must ask that you allow Thor and I to find as peaceful of a solution as possible."

He appeared to be on the verge of answering, but I never had the opportunity to hear his reply.

An explosion rocked the Helicarrier, and I stumbled sideways, forced to clutch onto the back of an empty chair to keep from falling. I looked round at Agent Coulson, heart in my throat. Then we both glimpsed at the screen that now displayed a distorted, incomprehensible image of what had once been the lab. I frowned and said, "That wasn't them, was it?"

Chaos erupted on the bridge. SHIELD agents were running to and fro, not panicked, but urgent. A number of agents were dashing for the door, arming themselves, shouting instructions and information to one another. I could hear Agent Hill yelling over the clangour, "External detonation! Number three engine is down."

Straightening, I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my sword. I stood amidst the mayhem, unsure of how I could offer assistance. There was one thing I did not doubt however: we were being attacked by individuals serving under Loki's command. _Unless it was the Mad Titan who dispatched them_, I thought. They hadn't completed their transaction, after all. Regardless of their intent, Loki's time was up.

Agent Coulson stood at the edge of the trench, looking far calmer than I was feeling. "You heard Director Fury, initiate defensive lockdown," he ordered several SHIELD agents. They immediately went into action.

Once they were gone, he gave me an inscrutable look. "We need to get to the armoury and secure the detention level. Mind giving me a hand?"

The question surprised me. "You would trust me to help you?"

"Despite what the higher ups may believe, I don't think you had anything to do with what Loki has done," Coulson replied brusquely. "So, are you gonna help me or not?"

Removing my satchel, I dropped it to the ground and gave him a single solemn nod. "I will do all that I can, Agent Coulson."

Along the side of the bridge, he led the way down a set of stairs where we ducked out of the mayhem. The corridors were filled with flashing red lights and blaring sounds. I cringed every time the horn resonated, my ears stinging from the noise. "The armoury is on the way to the detention level," Coulson informed me. "We should be able to—"

A contingent of unknown enemies darted through the corridor perpendicular to ours. Several of them glanced our way. Without a moment's pause, they deviated from their path, raised their weapons and opened fire.

Coulson and I pulled back, taking cover within door frames that stood opposite one another. Leaning my head back, I took in a deep, shaky breath. Hands steady, I unsheathed Silvertongue. At the same time, Coulson drew a firearm from within his jacket.

He rested against the wall at the ready, watching me almost expectantly. I enveloped myself in a barrier, head to toe. Upon seeing his nod, I peeked around the corner. They fired the very instant I did, a barrage of tiny metal projectiles pinging off my shield. I flung myself back and levelled my gaze with Coulson's. "Four of them. All well-armed," I said.

Raising his firearm, he gestured to his person. "Mind if I take a swing?"

I pursed my lips in a moment of hesitation before eventually acquiescing. He went into a crouch, and I provided him with a shield. Leaning around the corner, he fired round after round, the noise louder than I'd expected from such a small weapon. Over the din, I perceived the pain-filled cry of an enemy followed by a bodily thump. I let my magic disperse when Coulson took cover once more. A metal casing fell from his firearm, and he peered down at it, mildly vexed if anything.

"Took down one." He tossed his firearm aside. "But I'm all out."

"Is there another way to the armoury?"

"There is. But it's the long way."

"Then you go. I will tarry here," I told him, throwing up a barrier wall when our foes began firing upon us again. "I will hold them at this location while you secure the detention level."

Coulson offered a curt affirmation before pulling back and ducking into one of the open doorways we'd passed by earlier. Just as the door closed behind him, my magic gave way to the onslaught. Resting my head against the wall, I took a moment to regain my strength. I could hear the enemy's approach, their footfalls within yards of my position.

I waited until they strode nearer, then cloaked myself in another barrier. Turning the corner, I gripped my sword tight and thrust upwards. By some stroke of fortune, I skewered one foe straight through his chest. The others reacted swiftly and began their withdrawal, opening fire upon me just as before. Fighting back the bile that threatening to rise, I kicked the armoured man from the end of my sword so that I could weave my way down the hall.

The two remaining men walked in reverse, shooting at me in turns. Their weapons' little bolts made my shield undulate, and my body quivered from bracing against the impact. When one paused to reload his weapon, I took the chance to propel my magic forwards. It seemed as though they'd been expecting it; they kept to their feet, although the one nearest to me stumbled back a touch.

In the midst of his attempt to recover, I swept forth and slashed his throat. The remaining man raised his weapon, but I proved quicker than him, piercing him through the heart before he could let loose a single shot. Glancing up and down the hall with caution, I removed Silvertongue from my last deceased foe, blood streaking the blade. He fell to the ground, lifeblood draining from his wounds. I frowned at the sight, but I refused to dwell on it any longer.

Footfalls resonating in the corridor behind made me whirl about.

Another infiltrator came towards me, entering from the hall Agent Coulson and I had arrived from. My brow rose at the sight of a bow and arrow in his hands. With the mortals' guns, I did not expect to see such a weapon. All the same, it caused my stomach to drop when he took aim.

I threw myself to the left, my shoulder hitting the wall. He proved himself expeditious by unleashing an arrow that grazed my neck; I could hear the sharp whiz as it flew past. Blood trickled from the wound, and I suspected I lost a few strands of my hair. Ignoring the pain, I charged at my adversary and swiped at his chest.

A chill gripped my heart when he stumbled back, the point of my sword barely scraping his vest. In that moment, I saw his eyes: they glowed blue, a swirling gleam. Like the head of the sceptre Loki wielded. _He's a SHIELD agent_, I was startled to realize. With a surprising strength, the man thrust me backwards using the curve of his bow. Caught off guard, I fell against the wall.

He drew another arrow—two arrows, in fact—neither of which had normal arrowheads. Before I could determine what they were, he let them fly. A cry caught in my throat as I dove to the ground, casting a barrier spell to deflect any further attacks.

But it wasn't enough to block the entirety of two successive blasts.

The discharge rocked the corridor, sending me flying in spite of my shield. Though my magic absorbed the debris and heat, it could not prevent the rattling of my brain.

My head slammed into the ground when I hit the metal grating. The sound of flames roared around me, and my vision spun as though I'd been spinning in circles. I was vaguely aware of the bewitched SHIELD agent stomping past me to disappear into the adjacent corridor. I could perceive little else, my thoughts clouded by a delirium. _Am I falling?_ Groaning, I held a hand to my head, desperately trying to will the mental haze away.

An unexpected mist surged throughout the corridor, the heat of the flames vanishing soon thereafter. The dull ringing of my ears seemed to fade, but I lacked the strength to rise. _Get up. You have to get up_, I told myself. My body felt heavy, my head sluggish. _You have to stop Loki. Before this gets any worse. Before you lose him forever_.

"Eirlys?"

I blinked when I was met with the sight of red hair. "Agent Romanoff? What happened?"

"You mean the mess in here or the explosion outside?" she said, grabbing my arm to pull me upright. She scanned my eyes, one at a time. As she did so, I noticed the weariness in her own gaze. "Are you hurt?"

I reached up to touch the laceration on my neck. The sting garnered a hiss from me, although it was not anything that couldn't heal in a matter of hours. If the archer had aimed half an inch higher, he would likely have punctured my jugular vein. "It's a minor flesh wound. I will be fine." I looked round the hall, now charred and dilapidated, all four true adversaries dead at the far end. The one agent who was acting against his will had vanished.

As soon as I was on my feet, my head stopped reeling, but my body was beginning to ache—bruises from the neck down, no doubt.

"We need to get to the detention level." Agent Romanoff was hurtling down the hall before I was properly standing. I snatched up Silvertongue from the floor and hastened to follow her.

For a time, we ran, not once speaking to one another. We escaped the smog of the corridor in our wake, but found the hallways ahead devoid of life. We went past a door marked as the armoury; I craned my neck to peer inside and saw no sign of Agent Coulson. Several yellow arrows painted on the walls guided the way to the detention level.

Abruptly, Agent Romanoff stopped to kneel and pry open a section of the grating. I skidded to a halt in turn. "I'm going after Agent Barton," she said, tossing the criss-crossed slab of metal aside. "You need to go after Loki." She nodded to the stairs at the end of the hall, and I inclined my head to convey my understanding. "If this all goes right, I'll meet you down there."

I made no reply. She didn't seem to expect one.

Without a second look, Romanoff slipped into the ground, fading into the darkness below. In an instant, I was pivoting on my heel and running down the hall. Taking the stairs two steps at a time proved too time-consuming, so I leapt forth and engulfed myself in a barrier to ease my landing. Upon reaching the bottom, I touched down in a crouch.

That's when I saw him.

He was striding down the corridor, his back to me, a number of his operatives in tow. Foregoing any delay, I sprinted after him. As I went, I could feel the massive aircraft banking beneath my feet, enough to make me throw out my hands to brace against the wall. But I persevered. By the time I made it halfway down the hall, he'd turned a corner, and I could no longer see him. My chest burned as I pushed myself harder, running as fast as my legs could carry me down this impossibly long passage.

I rounded the corner a little too quickly and smashed my shoulder into the wall, but I didn't let it slow me. A staircase at the end of the hallway led straight to a door—one that had been left unlatched. It allowed access to the exterior of the Helicarrier, if the blustering wind was evidence enough. Pausing only to sheathe my sword, I headed outside and battled the gale.

Although my eyes began to tear up from the force of the currents, I could perceive Loki still. He was boarding one of the quinjets, sceptre in hand. At this, I bolted. The smaller aircraft hovered in the air, the loading ramp left hanging open. Loki stood at the edge, one hand grasping a bar overhead, the other taking aim with the sceptre. When I was within sight of him, however, he lowered his weapon.

Despite the distance between us, our gazes met. I wanted to shout after him. Maybe even plead with him to stop this once and for all. But the words would not come to me. There was an ache in my heart. An ache that had been there for all these long decades. And it only seemed to grow the longer I looked upon him. I could not discern his expression, but he did not shift or turn from me, not even when the vessel began to make its departure.

Numb, I could do no more than watch him go. The ramp closed before the quinjet picked up speed and flitted beneath the clouds, unable to be seen any longer.

For a moment, I could not seem to move. I could not think. I could not feel.

But then my heart faltered the moment I remembered, _Agent Coulson_.

Whirling about, I darted back inside on straining legs. I didn't dare slow, not even when I stumbled rounding the corner a second time.

Turning left, I made my way into the corridor I assumed Loki had come from. I paused, eyes wide, upon discovering a room that sported a rather large breach in the wall. Sidling inside, I climbed through the aperture to find myself within the chamber Loki had been imprisoned in.

The first thing I noticed was that the glass cell was gone—_dropped from the Helicarrier_, I surmised, recalling Director Fury's previous threats.

The second thing I noticed was Agent Coulson. "Oh Norns." I shot forward and collapsed on my knees at his side, gasping to catch my breath. "Agent Coulson." After shoving aside the weapon laying in his lap, I touched a hand to his neck. He had a pulse, but it was the weakest I'd ever felt. "Agent Coulson!" He blinked slowly, though his eyes seemed sightless. "Agent Coulson, please look at me."

His gaze finally found mine, and I dropped my hands to his chest where the bleeding would not cease. I shut my eyes and gathered all the magic I had at my disposal. But I knew it was all in vain. Even if I hadn't expended so much of my magic, I would not have been able to heal a wound like this on my own. It was beyond my skill, healing the severed arteries, the fine threads I could never grasp. I needed more magic to compensate—even then, I was unsure if it would be enough.

Regardless of my capabilities, I tried to cure him, knitting together what tissue I could. There was just so much blood.

"It's okay." My eyes flew open when he spoke. The flow of his blood seemed to slow; I wasn't certain if it was from my healing or if it was because he was running out of blood to lose. "It's okay, Eirlys."

"I'm going to heal you," I told him. "I can't let you die." Deep down, I knew, that part of the reason for my desperation was because I didn't want his blood on Loki's hands. I didn't want Loki to be responsible for his death. I didn't want to be wrong. I wanted to be able to hope. "You're not going to die, Agent Coulson."

He seemed to know as well as I that it wasn't true. "Thank you," he muttered. "For trying."

I sagged in place, the muscles in my arms giving way. I realized—if by some miracle I managed to close the wound in his heart—there would not be enough blood to sustain him. There was so much of it spattered on the wall, falling through the grating, soaked in his suit. He was dying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Seconds later, half a dozen SHIELD agents came barrelling into the room, Director Fury in tow. He took in everything in less than a second. Never saying a word, he crossed the walkway with long strides and dropped to one knee. When he spared me a glance, I rose and turned away to stand by the railing.

I stared blankly at the far wall, hands clenched at my sides, listening to the murmur of their conversation.

Then it was quiet.

The SHIELD healers entered shortly after, and Director Fury rose to brace himself against the rail. He did not remove his gaze from the much too still Agent Coulson.

Shakily, I turned to face the Director, a question on the tip of my tongue. But he simply looked up at me and shook his head.

With a heavy heart, I leaned my forearms on the railing, head bowed. Through my hazy sight, I surveyed the blood on my hands: bright red and dripping.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So we're trucking right along into movie canon now. The next chapter will feature the beginning of the Battle of New York.

As per usual, I give my thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and followed. Also, huge thanks to my fabulous beta, **Hr'awkryn**.

Don't forget to review!


	6. A Symphony of Chaos

II.

* * *

**SIX**

* * *

_a symphony of chaos_

* * *

The harsh glare of lights overhead made me squint. The sting worsened when I leaned closer to scrutinize myself in the mirror. I looked a mess: my hair dishevelled, my eyes red, my skin an unhealthy pallor. The dark circles beneath my eyes—old, familiar friends—made me appear as though I was on the verge of death. The sharp pain in my head was no doubt a contributing factor. The SHIELD healers determined that I'd been concussed but suffered no brain damage—perhaps the only glad tidings I'd received this day.

I'd been told of what happened to Doctor Banner, how he'd transformed into 'the Hulk' and would've torn apart the Helicarrier if Thor and the agents of SHIELD hadn't engaged him in conflict. Instead, he'd been lost to the world below. What was worse: Thor was nowhere to be found either. It had been a dreadful revelation, that Loki had been the one to eject the prison cell with his brother inside. I'd seen an agent in the prison chamber reviewing the footage after they carried Agent Coulson's body away; watching it made me feel more ill, if at all possible.

Letting loose a quavering breath, I backed away from my reflection to peer down at my hands. The blood had dried, making my fingers stick together. A little of it was mine, some came from the mercenaries I'd killed, but most of it was Agent Coulson's. A chill swept over my skin, and I hurried to run the water tap.

The water could hardly wash the red away. I grabbed the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the sink. It had thus far gone unmarred, but when I used it to scrub furiously at my hands, it soon became tinged with death. Minutes had to have gone past by the time I cleaned the blood off. Even then, my hands were still red. I threw the soap aside and dried my hands as best I could.

Twisting my waist, I observed the damage done to my armour. The armour was old—so old that it was a wonder it was still functional. It had seen its fair share of battle with Sif, and now with me. Perhaps one too many battles. It was dented and cracked, and it sported a sizeable scorch mark from the Chitauri attack on Puente Antiguo. Unbuckling the clasps, I let it fall to the ground with a _clunk_.

Arching my neck, I bent over the sink and observed the small nick on my neck in the mirror. I wiped it with a wet cloth, gritting my teeth at the pain. With a huff, I threw the cloth into the sink and slumped on the cot.

SHIELD had allocated a small room for me to rest in while they tried to decide how to proceed. They seemed at a loss, reeling from the onslaught, and bereft of direction. Loki had made his escape. Doctor Banner was missing. Now the humans were flying blind.

The mere thought of Loki caused such an ache in my chest. After learning all that he'd done, seeing those he manipulated and killed, I felt like I was living in a nightmare. In a way, it was true—my nightmares had come to life. _My visions_, I thought. _This is what my visions were showing me. And I tried so hard to ignore it because it was too difficult to face_.

With shaky hands, I reached for Silvertongue, untying the scabbard from my belt. There was blood on the handle. There was blood everywhere. Blood on my hands. Blood on my armour. Blood on the path ahead. Clenching my jaw, I drew the sword and stared at the flat of the blade. I moved to wipe it clean, but when I glimpsed the inscription, I froze. _Defender of the Nine Realms_. My throat closed as I turned it over. _Goddess of Protection_. Decades now, and it still sounded like a stupid jape. I wasn't worthy of such a title. _Some day you might be_, Sif had said.

I thought of the lives I'd taken. I thought of the people I failed to protect. Agent Coulson was dead. Loki was responsible. He was responsible for all of this. He who had gifted to me the sword I held in my hands. He who I'd glibly named the sword for. With such ease, I could remember the day he presented it to me. Later that night, he'd told me that he loved me for the first time. It had been the happiest I'd ever felt.

Fighting my tears, I tightened my grip on the hilt and threw Silvertongue aside. The blade bounced off the wall before clattering loudly to the floor. The moment I stood, the scabbard fell along with it. When the cacophony ceased, I ran my hands over my face and marched from the room.

A scant few SHIELD agents walked the halls. They kept their heads down, air solemn, not bothering to acknowledge me as I passed them by. It had been the same in the days following the siege on Alfheim. The Light Elves had mourned their defeat just as the humans did now.

I entered the bridge, quiet as a wisp of smoke. With the sweep of my gaze, I found that only a handful crew members were present; it surprised me, how calm and collected they appeared despite our failure. Director Fury stood at the helm, hands folded behind his back, seeming to be in deep reverie. Nearer to me, Captain Rogers was sitting at the table, sifting through a pile of bloodstained cards. I said nothing to either of them while I walked past.

I descended the stairs and crossed the bridge where I came to a standstill before the window. The clouds were sparse now, the sun shining resolutely above. It did little to lighten the mood. Ill tidings lay before us. I was certain we would soon receive word of Loki's schemes coming to fruition. And I did not know if I had the courage to withstand the ever-growing torment.

Agent Hill arrived at my side a short while later. Clearing my throat, I wrapped my arms around my midsection and inclined my head to study her. She had a few scrapes and burns, but she appeared otherwise unfazed by what had transpired. "How many are among the fallen?" I asked.

"Hard to say. We're still collecting our dead."

I returned to the window and the outside world. "Any word of Thor? Or Doctor Banner, for that matter?"

"Nothing," was the reply.

Agent Hill shifted from one foot to the other before facing me, arms crossed. "I heard you were with Coulson when he died."

I nodded. "I am sorry I could not help him."

She offered no response.

Bowing my head, I made to grasp my crystal pendant until the abhorrent events of the day surfaced in a rush; it was still a challenge, knowing that Loki had done all of this. I let my hands fall to my sides. "Did you know Agent Coulson well?"

"He was a friend," Agent Hill said, "and a good man."

"Yes." A sudden illness churned in my stomach. "Yes, he was."

Silence stretched on for several long moments.

Before I could think our conversation ended, Agent Hill saw fit to speak again, "We confiscated some of Loki's things—whatever he had on his person when we detained him." I turned to look upon her, brow furrowed. "He had a dozen knives, maybe more. And this." When she lifted her hand and unfurled her fingers, I swore the entirety of the mortal world tilted for half a heartbeat before righting itself again.

There, sitting all too delicately in the palm of her hand, was my golden hair comb. "You... you found this—you found him carrying this?" I said. She nodded and proffered it to me. Hands quaking, I plucked it up and beheld it without a word. For centuries it had been mine, and for decades I had not seen it. After my last visit to Asgard, I felt certain he'd discarded it in the wake of our final conversation. Yet he'd had it with him all along. There were a few new indentations on the body of the comb, but it looked as though it had been well cared for otherwise.

"Was it yours?" Agent Hill asked.

Running the pads of my fingers across the small emeralds inlaid in the gold, I could not hold back a sad smile. "It was." Whatever smile was playing at my lips vanished the moment my gaze levelled with hers. "But you already knew that." She made no reaction, but the lack thereof spoke volumes. "Was this why you let me speak with him? You wanted to see if he would cave to sentiment."

"Yes," she said. "That was our hope."

I shook my head. "I fear Loki is too far gone."

"But you'll keep trying, won't you?"

_Even after he killed Agent Coulson_, I thought. And it was not difficult to imagine that she was thinking the same thing. Swallowing thickly, I closed my fingers over the comb and averted my eyes. "You must think me heartless."

"No, I don't." Agent Hill turned towards the bridge, allowing her arms to come to a rest by her sides. "I just think you fell for the wrong god."

I blinked and stared after her while she started up the bridge, her staid nature making its return. With a frown, I whirled about and took a single step in her wake. "Agent Hill, wait." She paused, but did not look back. A sudden spell of hesitation hampered my tongue, though I was quick to overcome it. "I heard there was an agent freed from Loki's influence. Might I speak with him?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "About what, exactly?"

I clenched my hand around my comb and pressed it to my heart. "Anything and everything he can tell me about Loki."

Despite her begrudging manner, she relinquished to me the location of the agent named Clint Barton. He'd been the first to be taken by Loki, or so I was told. Thus far he remained the only one to have awakened.

Parting ways with Agent Hill, I trod the halls of the Helicarrier and found my way to the infirmary wing. A great number of the SHIELD agents inhabited these halls, whether they were injured or standing guard. The guards were for the agents that had been recovered from Loki's control; it was not guaranteed they were completely free of his enchantment. Even Agent Clint Barton had a pair of guards at his door.

"I would speak with Agent Barton," I said to one of them. She complied immediately, and I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Agent Hill had already given the order to grant my access.

The door opened and, in an instant, my gaze fell upon Agent Romanoff. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her brow arched the moment I entered the room. "I already asked him," she told me. "He doesn't know where Loki's going."

"That wasn't all I intended to ask."

The man who I presumed was Agent Barton strode out of the adjacent privy. My heart jolted so badly, I almost quailed at the sight of him—he was the agent who near killed me with his bow and arrow. From his unaffected demeanour, I surmised that he did not remember any of it.

Drying his hands on a towel, he scrutinized me without a word. He looked decidedly unimpressed. "So, you're Eirlys?"

I swallowed my initial alarm and bowed my head politely. "Well met, Agent Barton."

He only scoffed in response, and I felt my ears burn.

"I did not come here to subject myself to your judgement." My jaw tensed as I strode further into the room. "I wished to enquire about Loki—and not just about where he's gone."

Barton tossed his towel aside before bestowing upon me a curt nod. "Ask away."

"Did he ever make contact with anyone? Anyone not from this world?"

His eyes never left me, even as he made his way round the room to lean against the bed. "Maybe." He shrugged. "Though he never used any of our tech, if he did."

I stood a little straighter. "Then he used magic. The sceptre perhaps?"

"Yeah, seemed that way to me. He usually sat in some dark corner," Barton said. "I thought he was meditating at first, but he looked a bit too... antsy."

The SHIELD agent then pushed himself away from the bed and moved to stand toe to toe with me. He was no more than several inches taller than I, but the keenness in his eyes made him seem all the more intimidating. As though he could learn everything about me in a single sweep of his gaze. "You know, Loki asked a lot of questions about you."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he did." Barton glanced down at the hand in which I clutched my comb. "More than the others on the Avengers roster. More than even his brother. I got the sense he was trying to find out how much we really knew about you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you suggesting, Agent Barton?"

He leaned forward to hold my regard. "How do we know he hasn't got strings on you?"

My ire flared at the mere insinuation. "And we're meant to trust you? How do I know you're no longer under his influence?"

"Guys, stop it." Agent Romanoff came between us and shoved Barton backwards with a firm hand. All she gave me was a sharp look, and I yielded to her. "Clint, she's been here the entire time. We've had constant eyes on her. She's done nothing but help us." Then she turned to me. "And you just need to trust me. Agent Barton is perfectly fine. I made sure of it."

The flush of heat on the back of my neck was slow to fade, especially when I glimpsed the remainder of Barton's searing stare. With a deep breath, I put some distance amidst myself and the humans. "It's not so simple," I professed. "I am not certain of who I can trust anymore." There had been a time when I thought Loki was the one person in all the Nine Realms who I could always trust. He always looked after me, protected me. _Now look where we are_.

"I understand," Romanoff said, nearing me now. "But we have to find a way to stop Loki. There might be a shortage of trust among us"—she gestured between Barton and me—"but we have to work together."

Letting my shoulders drop, I looked to Agent Barton. She was right, I knew. The stresses of the day clouded my judgement, marred my emotions, and hindered my ability to trust. It was reasonable to consider that Agent Barton felt much the same. I could not blame him for his wariness.

"Then I suppose I should apologize. For earlier events in particular," I remarked. "I was mere inches away from ending your life during the attack, Agent Barton. Though I don't suppose you remember that."

A dark shadow passed across his features. "No, I don't."

A hiss and a click sounded when the door behind me opened. I turned to see Captain Rogers step into the doorway, fully geared and prepared for further conflict. He peered at each of us, a question in his gaze, but it was not a question he spoke, "Time to go."

Agent Romanoff came forward, quick to allow our previous exchange to subside. "Go where?"

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?"

Although Barton's attention lingered on me for several more seconds, he was the one to answer, "I can."

The Captain's regard fell upon me last. "You coming with us?" His brow cinched. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up for this."

"I have been harmed no more than anyone else in this room," I assured him.

There was a somewhat awkward shift in his stance. "Well, Agent Romanoff said you were... emotionally compromised."

I quirked a brow at her.

She reciprocated the gesture. "I only said that after your talk with Loki. He seems to have that effect."

"That was before. But now..." Heart growing heavy, I tightened my grip on my comb. "I cannot let this go on. I will help you stop him."

Once I voiced my oath to see this through, we went our separate ways to prepare.

Returning to my assigned chamber, I reequipped my amour, dents and cracks and all. I restored the scabbard to my belt without a thought. But when I picked up my sword, I paused to wipe it clean with a towel. Some of the blood and the water mingled, dripping from the very tip of the blade. Upon revealing the shining steel, I stopped to stare at the ancient runes engraved upon its surface. The honourifics I never deserved. _Then earn it_.

When the four of us gathered again, we marched through the halls and into the bay of aircrafts where we 'commandeered' a quinjet. I remained in the rear cabin with Captain Rogers while Romanoff and Barton took to the helm. Our metal flyer rose from its perch, shuddering and roaring. Heart thudding, I gripped one of the bars above while we hurtled from the Helicarrier's bay.

Captain Rogers leaned over Barton's shoulder and said, "Follow Stark." Retreating back into the cabin, he passed me a peculiar little device. "Take this." He tapped his ear, and I realized what it was for; I'd seen Agent Coulson wearing such an earpiece earlier.

Upon securing the device over my ear, I inched forward to peer out the window. I blinked at the sight of Tony Stark zooming ahead of us, just as I'd seen in SHIELD's collection of recordings. A man in a suit of armour gliding through the air was undeniably fascinating. At speeds that outmatched ours, he soon disappeared into the clouds.

"Captain Rogers," I said, straining to have my voice heard over the hum of the engines. "You have yet to tell us our course."

He explained everything swiftly, and, at first, I wasn't quite sure I understood it all. The portal Loki meant to open required a substantial amount of power—an energy aside from what was provided by the Tesseract. "Tony thinks he's going to Stark Tower," Rogers told us. "It has the energy he needs. Not to mention it's the perfect platform for Loki to unveil his show."

The notion made my stomach drop. "Like a god descending from the heavens."

It was not long before we could see the great sprawling city laid out below. My breath caught in my throat as I leaned forward to take in the marvel. Verily, such a metropolis made Puente Antiguo appear primitive in comparison. This city sported towers and spires the likes of which I never expected to see on Midgard. It was nowhere near as glorious as Asgard, but it was immense and full of life.

The view enkindled a deep dread within me. A vision from the past flashed across my eyes like a burst of searing light in the darkness: _Fire and mayhem erupt below. He appears a monster, his hands held before him, a sceptre gripped tight. The dark conductor of a chaotic symphony_.

When the vision faded, I hunched over, gasping, and found Captain Rogers staring at me. "You okay?" he asked. "You look like you clocked out for a second there."

I furrowed my brow. "It was... the city took me by surprise."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Welcome to New York."

None of us uttered another word thereafter.

The quinjet dipped through the clouds, drawing nearer to the heart of the city. That's when a beam of light shot into the sky from one of the tallest buildings in the centre isle: Stark Tower. It was bright and blue and almost hypnotic, much like the sceptre that had been gifted to Loki. It tore the atmosphere asunder, a massive portal opening the way for our enemies to infiltrate Midgard.

From our vantage, we could discern the Chitauri pouring from the sky on their little flying machines, so remote that they looked like locusts. They dove and dispersed, firing their weapons upon unsuspecting denizens. Seeing this, Agent Romanoff directed our aircraft towards the Stark Tower. A number of letters from Stark's name appeared to be missing from the side of the building; the explosions of flame and magic all around it provided the explanation for that.

"Looks like the curtains rose without us," Barton quipped to Agent Romanoff.

In turn, she glanced behind at Captain Rogers and me. "You might want to brace yourselves."

As per her suggestion, I gripped onto the nearest set of bars. Even as I did so, my trepidation got the better of me, and I leaned into the helm to scour our surroundings for a glimpse of Loki.

I tensed, my knuckles turning white when the quinjet plunged into the city, wending between the buildings. As we sped down the lane, I saw Tony Stark fly across our path. A chain of Chitauri persisted in chasing him, and Agent Romanoff promptly opened fire. They burst aflame, some of them crumbling into pieces, showering the streets below with an inferno of debris and death.

We pulled upwards and around, through the black smoke, and headed straight for Stark Tower. Our quinjet floated higher, circling the lofty structure until we were hovering at its front. I could perceive them from this distance; there were a pair of decks, and on the upper of the two, Thor and Loki were engaged in combat. I'd seen them fight each other so many times before—Loki with his staff, Thor with his hammer. But this was different. These were two great warriors locked in a deadly conflict, not two brothers making play at war.

Barton swung the quinjet around to face them, while Agent Romanoff attempted to take aim. Catching sight of our ship, Loki threw Thor to the ground. He brandished the sceptre at us, only to hesitate. Some part of me made me hope and wonder if he'd seen me or if he suspected I was aboard.

Nevertheless, the very moment Romanoff let fly a round, Loki fired upon us. The blast struck the left wing of the aircraft, making the jet tremble. With one engine down, our vessel banked left and right, out of control.

Heart wedged in my throat, I clutched the handles overhead while we reeled and began our descent. We fell so fast that my feet were no longer touching the floor. My grasp tightened until my hands ached from the strain, and I swayed so far to the right that my boots were near scraping the wall. The faster we plummeted towards the streets of New York, the more difficult it was to hold back a scream. This was the very thing I feared happening every time I climbed into one of the humans' vehicles.

Down and down we went, barely skirting around a corner before we dropped enough to see the street rising up to meet us. Without thinking, I threw out a hand to immerse the front of the quinjet in a barrier. It soon occurred to me that this was not a good idea. The moment we hit the ground, I lost my grip, and swinging became falling.

I collided with the floor of the jet hard enough to rattle my brain and very nearly bite my tongue. Another swerve sent me rolling into the side of the cabin. I curled up tight just seconds before we rammed into something else—a building, to be sure. The force of the impact caused me to bounce up and down until the quinjet finally came to a rest.

I groaned, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling.

Captain Rogers' face appeared in my vision. "Eirlys, are you hurt?"

"No." I eased myself upright. "Only my pride has been wounded." _And my sentiments regarding Loki_, but I thought it prudent not to mention that.

He proffered a hand, and I gave him a grateful smile, rising with his assistance. Once I was steady on my feet, we exited the quinjet with Agent Romanoff and Barton in tow.

Upon stepping onto the street, I was overwhelmed by the sheer chaos. Explosions resounded in the air, as did the screams. The citizens of New York were running for their lives, and I had half a mind to do the same. From the ground, the slaughter and destruction seemed so much worse. I could feel the horror seeping into my skin, delving deep to permeate my very core. The knowledge that Loki had a hand in this was agonizing beyond words.

"Come on," Captain Rogers said. "We gotta get back up there."

With a deep breath, I trailed after him and the two SHIELD agents. We wound our way through the shattered rock and crushed vehicles, our gazes focussed on the tower above. From our viewpoint, I saw no sign of Thor or Loki. Any thought of seeking either one was extinguished when a score of Chitauri came swarming from the portal.

My three companions came to a stop, and I had no choice but to emulate them. It did not take long to realize what brought about their stunned standstill. Behind the Chitauri flyers, a massive creature, one of incomparable size, came gliding out of the aperture in the sky. I turned cold at the sight. Never in my life had I seen such a creature so large, nor one so heavily armoured. _Leviathans_, Lord Meyrick had called them. _To transport the Chitauri through deep space_.

The creature dove and smashed into the top of the building that stood before us. It didn't even slow. It paid us no heed as it flew by, another score of Chitauri leaping from the crevices of the leviathan's underbelly. They landed on the buildings surrounding us, crashing through their windows or sliding down their faces. The leviathan was followed by more flyers.

I was vaguely aware of Captain Rogers speaking to Tony Stark through his earpiece, but I could not attend to their words. "Norns," I breathed. "How do we mean to contend with that?"

An explosion cracked the building to our left. I threw out a shield to block the debris that came raining down upon us. Once it settled, Barton darted forth to find cover. Agent Romanoff was quick to imitate him. Captain Rogers and I followed shortly, and we ducked behind a bright yellow car. "Well," Agent Romanoff said to me while I crouched next to her, "we could really use some bigger guns."

Nodding over to the edge of the bridge we'd perched ourselves on, Barton said, "We've got civilians trapped up here."

Mere moments after he spoke, a number of Chitauri crafts came flying past. The blood drained from my face as I looked over our cover and watched the Chitauri open fire upon the mortals below. I knew not how many were slain, and I was certain I did not wish to know.

Captain Rogers leaned round the end of the vehicle. "They're fish in a barrel down there."

A flash of energy shattered the window right where Captain Rogers' head had been seconds before. In response, Agent Romanoff climbed to her feet and began shooting, two firearms extended before her. With quick movements, Barton rushed ahead to use an overturned car as cover. I did much the same, sidling to the vehicle beside his. I could see half a dozen Chitauri advancing on us—with more on the way, of that I had no doubt.

"Cap, we've got this," Romanoff said. She exchanged a look with me, and I nodded in agreement. "It's good. Go."

He glanced at Agent Barton. "You think you can hold them off?"

Barton readied his bow. "It would be my genuine pleasure." Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he took aim and struck one of the Chitauri. The creature fell to his knees, and the quarrel discharged numerous little bolts, killing several of his surrounding kin. I lifted a brow, thoroughly impressed, especially now that I was not on the receiving end of Barton's arrows.

As soon as Captain Rogers leapt from the bridge, I stood and thrust the largest burst of magical energy I could conjure. It knocked back several cars and swept Chitauri off their feet, buying me the extra seconds I needed to jump into the fray. Barton took the opportunity to bombard the struggling Chitauri with a round of arrows. I reached for my sword and was fully prepared to draw it before I heard the cries for help. Tensing, I looked about to see a long white vehicle full of passengers—a bus, if I remembered correctly.

I caught Agent Romanoff's eye. "Go help them. I'll cover you," she said. "Barton, mind giving her a hand?"

With Barton in tow, I took a serpentine path through the rubble and broken vehicles. The front door of the bus was mangled, no longer able to open. Skidding round to the side, I threw out my hands to encase the glass windows with my magic. I grit my teeth and pulled using all the might I had within. Several of them cracked, pieces flying outwards like hail, while others did not budge.

Agent Barton set out to help some of the children first, catching a little girl that nearly fell before placing her on her feet. I ran for the door on the side and found it jammed. Drawing my sword, I slid it between the metal frames in an attempt to pry it open. Barton soon arrived to assist, and we forced the exit open together.

As the passengers came pouring out, he rejoined Agent Romanoff, and I stood back to ensure the people got to safety. Without warning, a dozen Chitauri came raining down to block our path.

An arrow flew forth to embed itself in the head of the Chitauri nearest to me. I made a mental reminder to thank Barton later.

Screams and shouts echoed in the air when the Chitauri made to open fire on the people we'd only just freed. I sprinted through the crowd and covered them in a dome-shaped barrier just long enough for Agent Barton to tear through half of them with the use of his explosive bolts. When only a scarce number of the enemy remained, disoriented by the blasts, I dropped the shield and tore through them all with a jab, a swipe, and a lunge.

My arms burned as I slashed and parried their staves. After ducking and winding between the Chitauri, I knocked one to the ground with a flare of magic to the face. Straightening, I stood over the creature and flipped Silvertongue in my hand to plunge the blade into his throat. My breath came in heavy pants, and I paused for the few seconds I could spare.

To my relief, the citizens I'd been protecting had begun running in the other direction, into much safer streets. I dashed down the road and vaulted over several cars to lend my aid to the SHIELD agents' ongoing battle. Silvertongue whistled as I wove it through the air. With every blow, blood spattered against the blade, every little splash covering the words engraved upon it.

Electrical current flickering at her wrists, Agent Romanoff jumped atop one Chitauri and ignited his neck. Two more crept towards her, lined up one before the other. Aiming for their chests, I ran them straight through, as far as my sword would let me. It took all the strength in every muscle to wrench my blade free. Already, I was exhausted, and I knew the battle was only just beginning.

Stumbling back, I fell into a crouch when Romanoff wielded one of their staves, firing at the Chitauri who'd been approaching from behind me. I stood in time to stab the Chitauri climbing the rail through his throat. The sight of his blood's flow made my stomach churn. _How strange it is_, I mused. _For seventy years I trained with this sword, yet in all that time I hadn't used it to draw a single drop of blood_. It seemed as though these past few days were making up for seven decades of idle instruction.

Another group of Chitauri made their approach. Sword raised, I expected them to take aim with their staves and fire upon me. But only one stepped forward, withdrawing a smaller weapon from his belt. The electricity that buzzed at its muzzle made my eyes widen. A strange sense of recognition floated through my mind—they knew an electrical charge would not kill me; it would incapacitate me. _But what use would that be?_

The question would go unanswered.

My breathing ceased for half a second when a figure soared onto the bridge. The grip I had on my sword tightened before I realized it was Captain Rogers, returned from his endeavour. He struck down two, three, four of the Chitauri, his mighty shield ringing the sweetest song. Numbers more advanced towards us, but they never got within yards.

A flurry of lightning engulfed them, felling every remaining one. A heartbeat later, Thor landed heavily on the ground, cracking the stone beneath him. He dropped to a knee, using an inverted car to pull himself up. "Thank the Norns," I said, running forward to help him to his feet. He seemed to be favouring his side. "Are you harmed?"

"It is of no pressing concern," Thor assured me with a weighty hand on my shoulder.

"Thor." Captain Rogers approached. "What's the story upstairs?"

Frowning, Thor let his hand fall to his ribs. "The power surrounding the Cube is impenetrable."

"_Thor's right_," Tony Stark's voice sounded over my earpiece. "_We gotta deal with these guys_."

"I have unfinished business with Loki," Thor remarked. His expression darkened when he looked my way.

Barton seemed to share his sentiment. "Yeah, get in line."

"Save it," Rogers said swiftly. "Loki's gonna keep this fight focussed on us, and that's what we need." He turned and paced a short distance to survey our surroundings. "Without him, these things could run wild. We've got Stark up top, he's gonna need us to—"

The purr of a vehicle brought an end to his deliberation. We all looked about to see Doctor Banner's approach. He was sitting astride a two-wheeled transport, meandering his way through burning wreckage. Coming to a full stop, he dismounted and headed towards us on foot. "So," he said, glancing around at the mayhem that had been unleashed upon New York, "this all seems... horrible."

"I've seen worse," Romanoff replied.

My stomach twisted at her remark. I could not say I'd seen worse, yet all of this seemed reminiscent to me. This was the Mad Titan's work. He always sent others to fulfill his bidding, and now Loki had fallen prey to his schemes. The attacks on Asgard and Alfheim had been orchestrated by the Mad Titan. The same fear gripped my heart now as it did then. I felt helpless, unable to stop the deaths of so many.

Captain Rogers revolved in place to observe the skies. "Stark, we got Banner. Just like you said."

"_Then tell him to suit up_," Stark replied. I raised my eyes to see him turning a corner onto our street. He was nothing more than a tiny figure of red and gold. "_I'm bringing the party to you_."

I staggered backwards when the leviathan followed Tony Stark around the bend. Somehow, seeing it flying straight for us made it seem so much more terrifying. I braced Silvertongue before me, though it occurred to me that it would be of no use. To my left, Thor readied his hammer; I doubted even Mjolnir could stop such a beast.

"I—I don't see how that's a party," I heard Agent Romanoff say.

The enormous creature flew lower, its underbelly scraping past all the cars and some of the road in its path. I couldn't keep from thinking about what it would be like to be swallowed whole by such a monster.

I blinked in bewilderment when Doctor Banner turned and began walking towards the leviathan. Captain Rogers seemed just as apprehensive. "Doctor Banner," he called. "Now might be a really good time for you to get angry."

The doctor glanced behind. "That's my secret, Cap." Then he paused, ceasing his steps as the leviathan drew ever closer. "I'm always angry."

If it hadn't been for the leviathan coming towards us, I was sure I would've gawked at Doctor Banner's transformation. In all my years, I'd seen all forms of indescribable magic and creatures of a magnificent nature. But nothing compared to this. I watched as he grew three times as large, his skin turning green, moments before he landed a punch directly to the leviathan's forehead.

The rest of us backed away when the body of the creature began arcing upwards, and I flexed my fingers, preparing to cast a barrier. I saw Tony Stark flying above, firing his explosives at the leviathan's back. The beast bent back the other direction. Although it was not about to crush us any longer, it was erupting into flames over our heads instead.

I ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding a flaming piece of armour. I spotted Agent Barton crouching behind a car, one small and scorched. Concern got the better of me, and I ran forward to cover the both of us in a barrier. As the leviathan exploded in the air, I caught Barton's gaze and saw his surprise.

When the leviathan settled, dead over the side of the bridge, I lowered my shield. "Are we alright?" I asked Barton.

He hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, we're good."

The screeches of the Chitauri resonated around us as we reconvened. I took my sword in hand and gazed upon the warriors clinging to the buildings on high.

"Guys." Agent Romanoff's exclamation drew our regard to the portal still hovering atop the Stark Tower. My eyes grew wide when another dozen leviathans and hundreds more Chitauri warriors came floating through.

Tony Stark's voice echoed in my ear while he landed among us, "Call it, Captain."

Though I could not look away from the horde invading Midgard, I listened to Captain Rogers with rapt attention. "Until we close that portal up there, we're gonna use containment." He turned round to face our assembly. "Barton, I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Stark, you got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash." His gaze fell upon me. "Eirlys, I need you to sweep the ground, protect the people. Get them to safety."

"Understood," I said just as Tony Stark flew off with Agent Barton. At the last moment, I shared a glance with Thor. The grim expression on his face was all I could bear to witness. Loki had harmed him; and it was more than just the wound in Thor's side that caused such pain.

I gave him a short nod before turning and running down the street.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the lack of Loki in this chapter; I know some of you were itching to see more of him, but there wasn't a way I could fit him in. That being said, he will feature more in the next chapter!

I extend my usual thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited/followed, as well as to my fabulous beta, **Hr'awkryn**.

Please take a moment to review. It's always lovely hearing from you.


	7. Some Kind of Madness

II.

* * *

**SEVEN**

* * *

_some kind of madness_

* * *

The heat of the blaze was near unbearable when a pair of flaming Chitauri chariots came cascading down upon me. For a split second, I feared I would not be able to cast my barrier in time. Breath caught in my throat, I used my free hand to generate a shield, the blue of it glowing in the shade of the building to my left.

As the debris came to a rest around me, I glanced behind at the dozen citizens I'd been escorting to the nearest underground station. There were children among them, terror plain on their faces.

In the sudden stillness, I peered up to see Tony Stark zooming by. "_Sorry about that, Princess_," he said over the earpiece.

"No harm was done," I replied, sprinting through the streets once more with the humans in tow. Up ahead, there was a human military force awaiting our arrival, beckoning us closer.

We were just yards from the squadron when a Chitauri aircraft slowed to fire upon us. Heart lurching, I tossed a bolt of energy. Before my magic struck, the Chitauri managed to let loose a blast. Conscious of the shrieks sounding behind me, I was forced to leap in front of my charges and raise another barrier. The strength of the blast made me shudder, but I held firm until the sparks dispersed. If I'd been a second too late, the mortals surely would have perished.

With heavy breaths, I gazed upon the people I'd promised to protect. They were young and old, innocent and unequipped to face the horrors of war. I had been as they were once. But now I was the one defending them. "You must keep going," I told them. "Follow your soldiers to safety."

Some of them headed down into the station without a word, while others paused to shower me with their thanks. I offered them the most reassuring smile I could summon, but even I knew it was a poor attempt.

The moment they were out of sight, I revolved on my heel and hastened down the street, opposite the overpass we'd assembled upon earlier. I knew not how long the battle had been waging on. All I knew was that I was exhausted and I wished I'd found sleep when I had the chance. That had been days ago, in Puente Antiguo. Nightmares had awoken me the last night I spent there, and they deterred me from attempting to find sleep again.

In the midst of my journey down the street, I could hear the chatter over my earpiece: "_Stark, you've got another congo line on your tail_," Agent Barton said.

Since the street was clear, I slowed to a stop and surveyed the skies for a glimpse of Tony Stark. "_Oh, fun_," I heard him say. "_Now it's a party_."

"_Hold on. Eirlys is on forty-second, near the corner of fifth_," Barton told him. Peering over my shoulder, I tried to see the SHIELD agent atop the building I knew he'd perched on, but it was much too high.

"_Ah, Freckles, mind providing a head-on collision?_" Tony Stark asked.

Mildly peeved at being referred to as 'Freckles,' I turned back around and spotted him flying low, straight towards me, with well over two dozen Chitauri behind him. I sheathed Silvertongue and stood primed. "Gladly."

"_On my mark_." Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I waited until he was within view before holding my hands out before me. The _BOOM_ of his thrusters made me cringe as he went past, but I remained steady. "_Now!_"

I projected the tallest barricade of magic I was capable of. Most of the Chitauri smashed head-first into the barrier, the eruption of their aircrafts tearing down those directly behind them. Some of the flyers at the end of the line managed to swerve upwards or to the sides to avoid it. When they recovered, they continued their pursuit of Tony Stark.

"It appears they are quite keen to catch you, Tony Stark," I remarked.

"_What can I say_," he replied, "_I just inspire fanaticism_."

Letting out a breath, I noticed several civilians running through the ruins of the city. I started towards them, only to freeze when another Chitauri chariot came swooping into my path. On instinct, I forged a barrier. But no amount of magic could've protected me from the pain I felt in my heart.

Loki stepped off the edge of the aircraft, a Chitauri staff in hand.

I could hear the blood surging in my ears as he approached. I could hardly breathe. I couldn't seem to construct a proper thought. Being so close yet so far away from him filled me with such anguish. "Stop! Do not come any closer," I said, my hand shaking; it wasn't the weariness that made me quake.

Unspeaking, he stopped a mere yard from me, tall and formidable in his armour. Gone was the sheen of his helmet, replaced now by the discolouration and tarnish begot by time and neglect. It made him seem all the more fearful, as though he'd seen all sorts of terrors and foul places throughout the Nine Realms. "You shouldn't be here, Eirlys."

"How could I not?" Licking at my dry lips, I dared to let my shield dissipate. "If you've come to seek a fight, I will not indulge you." My arms dropped to rest at my sides. For the first time since learning that he still lived, we had nothing to bar us. Not distance, not glass, not even my magic. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but I curled my hands into fists, forcing them to remain still.

His brow dipped once I stood before him, unprotected. "Are you so certain I won't bring harm to you?"

I responded with a wavering voice, "Yes. It remains the only thing I am certain of."

He lowered his staff then and inched closer. I did not back away, nor did I protest. Vaguely, I was aware of the explosions and the roars resounding in the distance, but my heed would not stray from him. "And why is that?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Because I still have faith in you," I replied.

He stopped. Something changed in his expression. Beneath all that anger was a great sadness—a sadness that I felt every day I'd been apart from him. It tore me up inside to think that our time asunder had led him to this. The years had not been easy for either of us.

Shaking my head, I gazed around at the mayhem that gripped the city. "We have a chance to stop this madness, Loki. This is unlike you."

His sentiment seemed to fade, and a coldness flickered through his gaze. "I am not as you knew me."

"I don't believe that." My wits escaped me, and I took a step nearer to him. "We can turn back from this. Can you not listen to reason?"

"It's much too late for that." Loki gestured to the surrounding devastation. "We are beyond words."

"No, you can put an end to this. Leave this all behind," I pleaded with him, searching his eyes for some semblance of the Loki that I loved for so many years. "We can go home."

He graced me with a mocking smile, though it was perhaps not as biting as he meant it to be. "I have no home."

"Yes, you do." No longer could I keep my hands at my sides. Extending both my arms, I pressed my palms to either side of his face. The metal of his helm was cold to the touch, but I paid it no mind. Being so near to him sent a shudder through me, and I wanted to believe he felt the same. "Loki, you will always have a home with me."

For the span of a heartbeat, I thought I saw his expression soften. My breath hitched when he leaned closer, his lips inches from mine. I thought he intended to kiss me, but instead he spoke softly, "You don't understand. I can't turn back now."

Reality came rushing back to meet me. Aiming his staff with one hand, he loosed a blast at the closest building. Pieces of the structure showered down upon the few civilians stragglers left on the street. Eyes wide, I spun away from Loki and hastened to protect them.

I cast my spell half a second later than I should have.

My barrier caught most of the falling debris, but one large slab escaped my grasp. Unable to stop it, I watched as it descended upon a pair of humans, knocking one of them—a young woman—right off her feet. I clenched my fists and pulled the rubble back, tossing it aside. Lump in my throat, I allowed myself a moment to turn and stare after Loki. Aboard his glider once more, Loki sped away until there was nothing but air where he'd been. Not once did he look back.

Touching a hand to the crystal at my neck, I hurried over to the two mortals. The young woman remained on the ground, unconscious, a streak of blood marring her brow. Her companion knelt next to her, his eyes wide and watery. Her lover, I gathered. Or her 'boyfriend' as Tony Stark phrased it before. I crouched alongside the young man to survey her.

"She won't open her eyes," he said. I looked up to see the fear written on his features—fear for her. It seemed all too familiar to me.

"I will help her," I assured him. With a deep breath, I brushed my fingers along her forehead, sliding through the smear of blood. The wound was not grievous, to my relief. I closed my eyes and healed the laceration, sensed the flesh mending beneath my touch. When I looked again, the lesion was gone, but the blood remained. "She will return to good health, though it may be some time before she awakens."

I regarded her companion, his worry lessened and now replaced by wonder. "Thank you," he said. "God, I don't know what I would've done if... I just... thank you."

My vision blurred. I felt as though I did not deserve his thanks, but I refused to be discourteous. "You are most welcome." As he eased her into his arms, I climbed to my feet. "Take her to safety." I motioned back down the street I'd arrived from. "There are human military forces down that way. They will help you."

He smiled, his gratitude clear, before standing with the woman in his hold. When I looked upon her, I thought she appeared to be my age—or the human equivalent. The sight of her in his arms bestirred memories of a time when I was in a similar condition, born to safety by someone who cared for me.

"I will," the young man told me. "Thank you again." Then he nodded in the direction Loki had gone. "And good luck."

Soon, he was conveying the girl away from the ruin. I lingered in their wake, staring down at my bloodstained hands. _You are a fool_, I berated myself, _thinking that your words could sway Loki. He is lost to you_. The sounds of war reached my ears still, and I was gripped with a fear that it would not cease. Something had to be done. This had to end. Raising my eyes, I took off down the street to find a better angle to observe Stark Tower and the portal above.

Halfway down the block, I jolted upon discerning Agent Romanoff's voice emanating from my earpiece, "_Can anybody read me? I could use a hand up here_."

Frowning, I slowed to a halt. "Are you atop the tower, Agent Romanoff?"

_"Yeah, I think I might have a way to close the portal_," she replied. "_But I'm getting swarmed up here._"

It seemed as though no one else was heeding our conversation. Or if someone was, they were unable to respond. "I shall—"

A score of Chitauri plunged from the sky to bar my path. I stood back to draw my sword, but another figure leapt in front of me before I could. The massive green body that filled my vision was unmistakeable. This time, I did gawk as Doctor Banner—the Hulk, in actuality—smashed the Chitauri into the ground, tossing them about like a child with his toys. The warriors were absolutely no match for him, and they were dispatched in a matter of seconds.

When the Hulk turned on me, I jumped back a little before realizing that he did indeed recognize friend from foe. At the least, I was comforted by the fact that I had not yet been flung like a plaything. Hands held in defence before me, I drew nearer. "Doctor Banner." I pointed to the top of Stark Tower. "Might I ask for some assistance?"

He understood my request, or so I hoped, for he swept me into the crook of his arm. Without anything resembling a warning, he leapt upwards. I had to keep from screaming as we soared through the air, buildings passing us by in a blur. The wind screeched past my ears and blustered against my skin at the speed we were ascending. If I thought the humans' aircrafts were unsettling, there were simply no words to describe how utterly petrifying this was.

I latched so tightly onto his flesh that I feared I was drawing blood with my fingernails. My only solace was that we traversed the distance between the street and the crown of the tower with haste and without incident.

The Hulk rebounded off an adjacent building prior to throwing me in the direction of Stark Tower. Tumbling through the air, I managed to wrap myself in a barrier before colliding with the gravelled roof. I rolled several times, eventually coming to a stop on a particularly rough patch. With a groan, I pushed myself up with my elbows and blinked in alarm at the blue glow of the sceptre in front of me. Lifting my eyes, I met those of Agent Romanoff.

She proffered a hand to me. "You okay?"

"I'm quite alright." I got to my feet with her help. "Doctor Banner is not the gentlest means of transport." The wry look she cast my way would've garnered a chuckle from me under different circumstances.

When she stepped back, I took notice of the man standing behind her—Doctor Selvig, who I recognized in an instant. He eyed me curiously for a brief moment, but seemed too preoccupied by the numerous screens surrounding the central device to offer any conversation. As he circled the machine, his movements urgent and precise, I dared to look upon the beam of light issuing into the sky. It was near blinding, and I could feel the magic radiating from the Tesseract contained within.

"Doctor Selvig says we can use the sceptre to shut this thing off," Romanoff told me. I glanced further upwards to see another squadron of Chitauri streaming through the portal. "When I do, I need you to cover me. They'll be diving straight for us."

Upon my nod, Doctor Selvig motioned to the middle of the device, where the Tesseract lay. "Right at the crown," he said.

Her assumption was proven right. The moment she pierced barrier surrounding the Cube, several Chitauri chariots came plummeting towards us. With one well-placed shield, I managed to cause a crash, as I had done earlier. The other chariot pilots were not so slow to react, and they dove through the pieces of burning remains, continuing their advance.

Heart thundering, I hurled a bolt of magic one after the other. For every blow I landed, I missed two. And, although I never let one of their blasts strike either of the humans, one did slip past me. Of all things, it collided with the barrier encompassing Tesseract.

A surge of energy erupted from the barrier, the force strong enough to knock all three of us off our feet. I fell hard, the back of my skull colliding with the gravel mere inches from the stone edging of the roof itself. Brain reeling, I could do little more than tilt my head back to assess the wellbeing of Doctor Selvig.

He too had fallen, mere yards away. With a soft groan, he pressed a hand to his brow, and I could've sworn I heard him mutter, "Twice in one day..."

Beside him, Agent Romanoff rose to her knees, looking a little worse for wear, dirt and blood smearing her face. Though she held the sceptre in her hands still, I was not certain if she was able to wield it. Even if she could, I doubted she would've reacted quickly enough to defend Doctor Selvig from the Chitauri swooping down to fire upon us.

Scrambling to my feet, I all but stumbled to cast a barrier. I encased us, along with the mechanism, within a barricade. With the portal still open, we were left exposed from the top, but my defence was enough to buy some time. "Agent Romanoff, you must close the portal," I called. My hair had come loose and fluttered in front of my eyes, making it impossible to see clearly. But I was much too afraid to move my hands. "I can sustain my magic only for so long."

She did not need to be asked twice. Following her lead, Doctor Selvig also stood, righting the computers that had toppled amongst us. Just as before, she went about plunging the sceptre into the Tesseract's barrier.

I glanced above to see numerous Chitauri chariots diving to meet us. They fired upon my shield, and I could feel the strength behind every blast, my fingers quivering, the ache in my chest growing exponentially by the second. I strained to sustain the only protection we had, but spots were beginning to dance across my vision. Another curious, and much larger, spot of colour darted across my vision.

It was the Hulk.

My eyes widened at the sight of him careening through the torrent of Chitauri, snatching several of them out of the sky. He seemed to draw their attention, and the majority of our assailants spun about to pursue him down the city block.

The very second they disappeared from our view, I let go. With a gasp, I fell to my knees, hand to my chest. My heart felt like it was on the verge of bursting, so rapidly it was pounding.

In my moment of incoherence, I almost did not see the Chitauri flyer advancing towards us by its lonesome. Staggering forwards, I cast a barrier in its path, my magic a mere flicker, only to watch it dive beneath. The aircraft came streaking closer, low enough to crash right into us. Verily, the Tesseract's mechanism would survive such a collision, but we would not.

The Chitauri glider drew ever nearer. Sidling to the left, I unsheathed Silvertongue. Once the glider was within yards, I shifted on my heel and brought my sword down upon the vessel, slicing right through the middle. Astonished, I watched as the rear half fell below and the front half skidded across the roof, dropping off the opposite edge. It had been rather fortuitous timing that guided my hand. And a well-wrought sword, it seemed.

Letting out the breath I'd been holding, I glanced back at Agent Romanoff and Doctor Selvig. While the SHIELD agent was deep in concentration, aiming for the Tesseract with the sceptre, the doctor gaped at me—whether in fear or amazement, I could not judge from his expression.

"I can close it," Agent Romanoff exclaimed, struggling to keep the sceptre level. "Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!"

When I could hear no response, I touched my ear and realized that my earpiece had gone missing—likely fallen astray during my flight with the Hulk. Instead, I approached Agent Romanoff, my movements sluggish, and lingered at her side. Jaw clenching, I eyed the sceptre, hesitant to grow any nearer. "Has anyone responded?" I asked. She graced me with a nod, her countenance grim. "Something has gone wrong then."

"You could say that," she replied, her grip on the sceptre tautening. "There's a missile headed our way—a nuke."

"A nuke?"

Romanoff's eyes found mine. "A very, very large explosive." She nodded at the portal. "Stark wants to toss it up there."

Tilting my head back, I gazed upon the last few Chitauri spilling from the portal. They'd taken to disregarding us; I presumed they could not see us through the radiance, or perhaps they'd found a far more enticing quarry. _Could it be this nuke Agent Romanoff speaks of?_ I wondered.

I turned to seek out the very large explosive that was ostensibly heading our way, courtesy of Tony Stark. The city was so much quieter from the peak of Stark Tower now that the Chitauri had stopped bearing down on us. Everything below seemed so much smaller. I surveyed the flames and the billowing smoke that stretched towards the sky, searching for a familiar red and gold figure.

Then I spotted him—Tony Stark was hurtling towards the tower, a charging missile at his back.

Lurching backwards, I stared, wide eyed, as he pulled up mere seconds before ramming the building. He shot upwards, the distance between him and the portal diminishing in a matter of seconds. I craned my neck, watching him fly higher and higher, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. When I blinked, he disappeared through the portal, the monstrous explosive disappearing along with him.

Long seconds passed. Very long seconds. Dread gripped me so firmly, I didn't dare move a muscle.

Then, in the distance, Chitauri flyers began plummeting from the sky like dead flies. Leviathans followed, crashing down into buildings and the streets below. Relief swept over me. And yet Tony Stark was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, Stark," Romanoff murmured.

From our vantage, I could see the eruption of the missile. The cloud of flame expanded, expeditious and indomitable—and it was about to consume us. I backed up further and exchanged a short glance with Romanoff. Nodding to me, she plunged the sceptre into the device.

My heart sank when the portal began to close, seemingly swallowed by the sky. As it diminished so did our view of the burgeoning inferno on the other side of space. It closed shut, disappearing completely. Upon seeing Tony Stark falling through the clouds, I let out a breath of laughter. My moment of ease was soon replaced with distress. He was falling, and he was not slowing.

"He's not conscious." I toed the brink of the roof, wondering if I could propel myself across the lower buildings to catch him. The odds were not in my favour, but I didn't have time to consider it. I drew back and prepared myself for the leap.

Before I could make the first step, a great streak of green arced through the air. I managed a smile when the Hulk seized Tony Stark mid-fall before they collided with a building far below. Dropping to one knee, I leaned over the side to scrutinize the street. We were so high up, the only figure I could discern was the Hulk.

With the sceptre still in her hold, Agent Romanoff crouched beside me, one hand on her ear. "Guys? Everything okay?"

After a length stretch of time, I glanced over at her. "Anything?"

Her brow furrowed. "Nothing."

Letting out a breath, I clambered away from the rim. A strange silence seemed to have settled over the city. The sudden bout of peace should've brought me solace, but it did not. I glanced at the sceptre before peering down below, to the two decks jutting from the tower's facade. Amongst the broken glass, there lay Loki's tarnished helmet. My heart jolted at the sight.

"Agent Romanoff, what has happened to Loki?"

She gestured over the side. "My best guess would be that he's still in there." Her brow lifted. "He's not dead, if that's what you're worried about."

Lowering my eyes, I said nothing in return.

"You should stay here with Doctor Selvig," she told me, inching closer to the edge once more. "SHIELD will be coming soon to pick us up—and for the clean up."

From her belt, she withdrew a metal hook tethered to her waist with a cord. When she latched it to the edge of the roof, I took a step forward. "Where do you intend to go?"

"To make sure this is over." She glanced downwards, in the direction I assumed Loki to be. "Keep an eye on the Tesseract." The sceptre remained in her clutches as she rappelled down the side of the building—one-handed, no less.

Heaving a tired sigh, I turned to look back at the Tesseract. It sat confined in the machine still, a glowing blue cube that appeared deceivingly innocuous. Satisfied that it wouldn't open the portal again of its own accord, I strode past it to join Doctor Selvig.

He was sitting with his back against the marble block protruding from the roof. His eyes seemed bleary, even as he tentatively patted the blood on his brow. I approached, my steps as steadfast as my weary body would allow. Sheathing my sword, I knelt beside him and observed the damage done to his head. "Are you alright, Doctor Selvig?"

Through his fingers, I saw his dry smile. "I will be."

"May I examine the wound?" I asked, holding out my hands. "I am a healer. I might be able to save you from a headache." Though he seemed skeptical at first, he eventually dropped his hands into his lap, and I traced my fingers along the laceration. He grimaced, but did not protest.

"You're the one who showed up at Jane's lab a few days ago," he said, watching me heal the wounds on his brow and the top of his head. "Eirlys, isn't it?"

"Yes, that was me."

"The girl who fell from the sky." He chuckled at the furrow of my brow. "That was how she described it. You fell from the sky. Like Thor did."

With his injuries healed, I let my arms fall; a greater weariness almost rendered me unconscious right then, but I staved it off. "Well, I did not fall in quite the same manner," I said. Smiling softly, I gestured over my shoulder. "Thor is here now, if you did not know."

He nodded, unsurprised. "And what about his brother, Loki?"

I swallowed and averted my gaze. "If Agent Romanoff was correct, he is likely being detained as we speak."

Content with my reply, he leaned back and relaxed, as if some daunting weight had been hoisted from his shoulders.

A moment of silence blanketed us, and Doctor Selvig looked just about ready to fall asleep atop the roof of Stark Tower. For the sake of his well-being, I could not let him. "Did... did Loki ever share details of his plan with you?"

Frown in place, he shook his head. "He only ever spoke to me of what needed to be done. At least, that is all that I remember."

"Did he ever mention a... an accomplice? Perhaps someone who was giving him instructions?"

Again, he responded in the negative. "He never said." My shoulders drooped a little, but then he added, "But he did seem a bit anxious at times. As though failure meant something worse than just losing the war."

I frowned, wondering what that suggested exactly. But I knew Doctor Selvig wouldn't have been able to provide the answer.

A sudden whirr made me turn, and I spotted a fleet of SHIELD quinjets soaring right towards us. Rising, I neared the brim of the roof and glanced below. On the upper of the two decks, Thor was leading a stumbling Loki over the glass, one hand on his shoulder, Mjolnir in the other. A strange combination of solace and despair filled my heart at the sight of him.

Closing my eyes, I let loose a heavy breath and looked out at the horizon to watch the quinjets' approach. When they neared, hovering some ways over the tower, I peered round at Doctor Selvig. "Are you able to stand?" Offering him what possibly resembled a comforting smile, I drew closer to him and held out a hand. "I believe it's time to go home."

* * *

With the enemy vanquished and some semblance of peace found, we ascended above the wreckage and departed from the field of battle.

It was midday by the time we returned to the Helicarrier. Few words were shared once we clambered into the quinjets, and perhaps even less was said when we stopped for a brief respite. I had not seen Loki since Thor escorted him from the Stark Tower, stowing him on a separate airship. SHIELD assured us that he would be held securely until it was decided what was to be done with him. I did not feel assured, not knowing what judgement would be laid upon him.

With the sun streaming through the windows, I stood on the Helicarrier bridge, my eyes glued to one of the screens. The images of a news report flickered, a man's voice echoing throughout the room, "_Breaking news. Just hours ago, the island of Manhattan suffered from what has just been confirmed to be an extraterrestrial attack. Despite the devastation, the extraordinary heroics of a group known as the Avengers has been—to many—a source of not only comfort, but of celebration_."

The video changed from the well-dressed man to what appeared to be a barricade the human authorities had erected around the battlefield. Scores of people had lined up alongside it, some of them eager to see what lay behind. Others were screaming, shouting, animated with excitement. It was an oddity, indeed, but perhaps it was understandable—it was not every day that Thor and the Hulk and Iron Man tore through a city, at war with an alien army.

Upon seeing images of the memorials constructed for the fallen, I felt my heart constrict. _We saved many a life_, I reminded myself. The number of casualties could have been worse, given how many people had been in the area when the attack began. But these facts served very little consolation. It didn't change the reality that Loki brought this mayhem to Earth.

I shifted my regard to the screen opposite the one I'd been viewing. It showed Loki sitting in a cell, one much smaller and darker than the glass prison he'd occupied before. His hands were bound together, a chain connecting them to the ground between his feet. Near two dozen SHIELD agents were surveilling him, each of them heavily armed. Agent Barton was among them, his bow at the ready, as always. I knew not if they could've truly contained him, but Loki looked too... defeated to attempt an escape.

Taking in a deep breath, I fought down the awful churning in my stomach. The recent days had not been kind to me. The thought made me want to laugh—saying the days had been unkind wasn't even enough to describe the true wretchedness of it all.

In the first quiet moment I had by my lonesome since arriving on Earth, I shut my eyes and tried to pretend that this was nothing more than a horrible nightmare. I prayed that when I opened them, I would be in Asgard, in bed with Loki, his arms curled around my waist. And the past seventy years would simply be erased—a dreadful dream, no more and no less.

But then I opened my eyes, and all of it remained. A real, endless, waking nightmare.

As silly as I knew it was, I felt a strange sense of disappointment.

The tears that long went unshed became increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet my grief was cut short by the sound of a familiar voice. I peered over my shoulder to see Thor speaking with Director Fury at the helm. They nodded mutually before Fury proffered his hand. After they shook, Thor came treading down the steps to meet me.

I was soon walking by his side, down the length of the bridge. He looked upon me, his concern clear. "How have you fared?" His words were soft, gentle even.

We neared the window, and I hesitated, struggling to answer his question. I had no desire to impart my misery upon him. Surely, in the wake of conflict with his brother, he had enough on his mind. If he felt even a fraction of what I felt, he did not need to hear the truth. Instead, I offered him a glib remark, "I think perhaps I should not have finished that second shawarma wrap."

He seemed mildly amused, but it did not last long. Gloom had seeped into him, and whatever delight he entertained could not ward it away for more than a moment. "Director Fury has informed me that they will be allowing us to take the Tesseract and Loki home."

_Home_, I mused. _Home is where you are loved most_. With my mother's words in the back of my mind, all my life, I'd been certain I knew what place to call home. But now... now I wasn't even sure where my own heart lay. I dropped my eyes to the ground, my gaze falling upon the satchel I'd left by the stairs leading to the upper deck. In my haste, I'd tossed it aside in favour of offering aid to Agent Coulson. He was gone now. Killed by Loki.

Thor must've seen the trepidation in my expression, for he inclined his head towards me. "I thought you would return to Asgard with me," he said. "Unless you wish to stay on Earth."

I shook my head. "It's only... Loki banished me from Asgard when he sat on the throne."

The curious dip of his brow made me think that it was absurd to believe my banishment was of any consequence. "My father will rescind your expulsion from our realm."

"Then I would love nothing more." I graced him with the best smile I could conjure. "If you will have me."

Thor returned my smile, though I suspected it was just as feigned as my own. At the least, when he drew me into a one-armed hug, I knew his affection was sincere. "You will always have a place among our people, Eirlys."

I knew my quest still stood unfulfilled. Despite all my efforts, I could not find the Mad Titan as I promised. I could not exact justice—or vengeance, as Faradei yearned to have. My best chance was to wait in Asgard for some sign, a word. Perhaps Loki would provide answers in the wake of his failure. Worrying my lip between my teeth, I reached up and grasped my crystal pendant. "What will happen to Loki now?"

Thor was quiet for a moment, his silence notably grim. "That will be for my father to decide."

Although Odin did not often condemn prisoners to death, I was fully aware that treason was the most severe of crimes. Even so, I held onto the belief that even Odin could not be so cruel as to have his own son—blood-related or not—executed. That hope was enough to put my mind at ease. If I was wrong—_no, I don't want to think about it_.

Clearing my throat, I pressed on, "Have you had words with Loki since we brought him back?"

"I have not." When his arm slipped from my shoulders, I glanced in his direction. "And I will not. I would have him wallow in his defeat," Thor said, his expression bereft of humour. "Not that Loki has spoken a single word since we apprehended him."

Bowing my head, I folded my hands together. "The Mad Titan eludes us still. But I have every intention of finding him. He has caused us enough grief."

"I doubt Loki will be so eager to denounce his benefactor." He faced the window, the afternoon sun setting him aglow. "If he shares with us as much as the Dark Elves that remain in our keep, then I imagine the way ahead will be rife with difficulty."

I allowed myself a wan smile. "Wouldn't it be an interesting change if it wasn't?"

He chuckled. "For once, I might appreciate a moment of peace."

I gave him a sideways look, my smile growing just a little bit wider. "I am uncertain if Heimdall told you that Jane Foster continues to search for you."

When nothing before lifted his spirits, the mention of the mortal woman seemed to. "He did."

"Do you think you'll pay her a visit?"

Thor glanced my way and shook his head. "Someday perhaps. There is much business in the Nine Realms that requires my attention first."

The hours were quick to rove past, and soon our time amongst the mortals was drawing to a close. Director Fury expressed his wish to have us leave as soon as possible, for he feared his 'higher ups' would make an attempt to impede our departure.

All was quiet when the time came for us to climb aboard one of the quinjets. Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton were to helm the craft, accompanied by a score of SHIELD agents bearing very large weapons. I stood, silent and still, in the hull of the ship. As Romanoff and Barton began conversing in hushed tones, Thor escorted his brother up the ramp alongside several more SHIELD agents.

Loki's hands were bound, his mouth gagged—perhaps out of fear that he might venture a verbal spell, or perhaps he'd supplied mockery one too many times. His regard passed over me before Thor shoved him into the nearest seat. Unable to endure looking upon him, I wove through the SHIELD agents to linger in the vicinity of the helm.

Within minutes, the quinjet soared from the Helicarrier bay, diving smoothly through the clouds. The trip was, thankfully, calm, albeit doleful. I pressed a hand against the wall to keep balance while I chanced a glimpse at our captive. Loki had been looking my way; there was always a noticeable shift in his eyes whenever I caught him staring. Opposite him sat Thor, Mjolnir clenched in his hands. His head was bowed, his gaze on the floor and unseeing.

The flight to New York City was short-lived. We landed in a concealed SHIELD landing area, and, in a matter of minutes, our journey continued by road. I joined Romanoff and Barton in their small car, while Thor and Loki were taken into an enormous armoured vehicle. There had to have been at least a dozen cars serving as an escort, as though such strength was needed when Thor was present.

The two agents remained silent during the drive. I peered out the window, watching the streets pass by in a perpetual smudge. In spite of all that had happened, life seemed to be carrying on. I'd been told many things about the mortals: how they were weak, beings of a lesser standing, their lives short. But I'd never known how resilient they could be or understood the vastness of their intelligence. The fragility of their lives gave them a strength and determination—a conviction that I had never known. And for that I admired them.

We stopped on an avenue with a rather scenic view. I climbed out of the car, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. With a deep breath, I turned my face towards the sky and revelled in the sunlight, the sound of laughter, the musical splash of the closest fountain. I spotted two ravens circling on high, both swooping and rising freely. The peaceful air was enough to make me think all was right in the Nine Realms. When I returned to my senses, I caught sight of Thor leading Loki across the street.

I trailed some ways behind Agent Romanoff and Barton, the other mortals soon joining us. Captain Rogers and Doctor Banner stood nearby, calm and collected. From one of the large black vehicles, Doctor Selvig brought out the bronze and glass device that would be sending us home. I watched as Doctor Banner placed the Tesseract inside the device and sealed it shut.

We exchanged short farewells with the humans, brief words of thanks and curt nods all around. While they gathered together, I strode forth to stand with Thor and Loki in the heart of the group. Thor turned to me first and held out the hand that bore Mjolnir. I placed my hand atop his before we both regarded Loki. With eyes that told me nothing of his thoughts, he met my gaze when I reached out to grasp his hand. His fingers were cold as they tightened around mine; the odd twist of my stomach could not go unheeded.

Thor hefted the device that now contained the Tesseract. Without needing to be prompted, Loki clutched onto the opposite end.

Gracing the humans with one last nod, Thor turned the device, and we went shooting through the stars.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And back to Asgard we go!

I feel as though, at this point, I should reiterate that this story is going to be AU. I say this because I shall be using elements and characters that may or may not be introduced or elaborated upon in future Marvel Cinematic Universe installments. All of this means that I run the risk of contradicting canon. So, the only thing I can do is say that this takes place in an alternate universe. Technically speaking, with the existence of Eirlys, this has been an alternate universe all along.

Special thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited/followed, as well as to my wonderful beta, **Hr'awkryn**!

To my guest reviewer, **flyte**: Yes, there will be another Loki chapter somewhere down the line.

The title of this chapter is a reference to the song _Madness_ by Muse.

Please leave a review!


	8. A Place Called Home

II.

* * *

**EIGHT**

* * *

_a place called home_

* * *

The flurry of magic settled around us, and daylight was transformed into eventide. I blinked at first, my mind slow to process where exactly we'd arrived. But the intricate golden dome above and the black marble beneath my feet were both things with which I was well acquainted. So much so that, for one stuporous moment, I thought I'd somehow slipped into the past.

My senses returned when I looked upon Thor and Loki to my left and right, their hands still clutched within mine. We were still very much in the present. The gloom had not receded. The only thing that resembled the past was the Bifrost observatory we now stood within; it had been reconstructed to look just as I remembered. Even then, it was not the same.

I tensed, hands falling to my sides, when a dozen Einherjar surrounded us. Before a single word could pass through my lips, Heimdall strode between the Einherjar, his broadsword gripped between both hands. "Escort the prisoner to the throne room." He gave command to the Einherjar, though his gaze never diverted from Loki. "Our king would have words with him."

Two Einherjar approached, taking Loki by either elbow. Six more followed close behind, flanking his keepers. As they led him from the observatory, he cast a glance at Thor, his gaze sharp. But then he looked back at me, eyes holding mine. His expression was not easy to read—it never had been. There was a coldness there, one that reminded me of the day we first met. I wondered if it belied any sorrow he might have felt. If he held any remorse for his actions. If he still had a care for me at all.

I did not break contact with him until he was removed from the Bifrost observatory. Once he disappeared from sight, my heart seized in my chest. What if I'd been wrong and the All-Father did not bestow clemency on him? What if Frigga could not convince him to spare Loki's life? The thought almost had me accompanying the Einherjar to the throne room. But I refrained and, for now, I let myself hope.

"Your Highness." Heimdall moved closer and gave a bow. My attention snapped to him, and I curtsied in return, feeling ridiculous for doing so in trousers. "You have my deepest condolences."

"Thank you, Heimdall."

"Perhaps your spirits may yet be lifted," he said, his deep amber eyes flickering to his right. "There are those who would see you through such troubling times."

The moment he stood aside, I spotted Sif and the Warriors Three striding to meet us in the heart of the observatory. When they drew near, I tensed, unsure of what to say or do.

It was Thor who reacted first. "My friends, you are a most welcome sight."

Volstagg let out a roaring laugh before rushing ahead of the others to drag Thor and me into his hold. He bore us each in one arm, his strength and size providing us with a bone-crushing hug. "Merry friends! You have been sorely missed." Once we were standing on our feet again, I swayed a little, my flesh feeling bruised despite the protection offered by my battered armour. "Eirlys, it has been far too long."

"Yes, it has." As much as I wished to share in his joy, I found myself unable. There was no denying how I'd missed them all, but there was no ridding the dark cloud that lingered overhead either. Still, I attempted a smile and made a jest, "Volstagg, I believe your girth has grown since I last saw you."

He laughed again, patting his rotund belly proudly.

Sif came forward next. "It is good to see you well, my friend."

The last I'd seen of Sif was when I took flight from the throne room, leaving a crowned and embittered Loki behind. She seemed to be recalling the same, if the shadow of sadness that passed across her visage was any indication. "And you, Sif." I drew her into an embrace, one that she returned without hesitation. It was a challenge to suppress the tears burgeoning in my eyes.

When we separated, Hogun and Fandral graced me with their condolences: Fandral with a small smile and Hogun with nothing even close to resembling a smile. The short words supplied by Hogun were not unusual, though I was unused to seeing Fandral so subdued—solemn subjects were not often lingered over by him.

Our amiable reunion was kept short, for I was more exhausted than I'd been in decades and Thor seemed to be aware of it. "Let us return to the palace," he said. "I would see my mother and father."

Together with our friends, we rode up the Rainbow Bridge astride the horses that had been brought for us. Numb and hollow, I stared up at the palace while we neared. Somewhere in my mind there had been a hope that beholding the Realm Eternal would restore a fragment of peace within me. But it did nothing more than remind me of everything I had lost.

We arrived at the palace and strode inside the entrance hall without ceremony. Of course, there was an excited murmur in the air—servants and nobles alike who saw our passing were most delighted to see the return of their prince.

As we trod further into the hall, my regard was drawn by a serene and familiar sight: Queen Frigga.

Her approach was steady, but when my gaze found hers, she came to a standstill. With a deep breath, I crossed the remainder of the distance until I stood before her. A smile overtook her features, and I did my best to respond in kind.

"My lady." I was startled by the tremor in my voice, the ache that swelled in my chest. "How good it is to see you."

Wordless, she swept me into her embrace. Arms around her, I pressed my cheek to her shoulder, the hunter green silks soft and comforting against my skin. "Eirlys, I was most sorry to hear what transpired."

I had to remind myself to let her go; it was not decorous to cling onto the Queen of Asgard in such a manner. The thought was almost amusing. After all that had happened in the past week, I wasn't quite certain why I ever cared about noble decorum in the first place. There were far more important things in the Nine Realms. I was happy to see her, and that was all that should've mattered.

"I... The days have been dark and trying." Upon drawing away from her, I peered down the entrance hall, towards the grand steps. Moments ago, Loki must have been escorted up the stairs and through the corridor. To the throne room. Where Odin would no doubt cast his judgement.

Frigga appeared to have discerned the shift in my focus, for she followed my sight with her own. "Loki will not face execution," she told me. A great weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. I felt like I could breathe again, and whatever foolhardy schemes I might've considered were quickly buried and forgotten. "He will spend his days in the dungeon."

Her gaze darted towards a figure over my shoulder, and I turned to see Thor stopping beside me. "You have returned unscathed," Frigga said, reaching out to lay her hand on his cheek.

The corner of his mouth quirked, though he never fully smiled. "Not entirely."

"Indeed..." She let her hand fall before glancing between Thor and me. "You both look exhausted. I believe you are greatly deserving of some rest."

In accordance, Thor and I expressed brief parting words with our friends. I could see the concern in their expressions, but none of them gave voice to it before we took our leave.

Queen Frigga saw fit to guide us down the corridor to the royal apartments. She shared several glad tidings while we walked, the plans to mend the Bifrost among them. With the Tesseract now in Asgard's possession, it was hoped that the reparation would take little time, and the link between the Nine Realms would be restored. Numerous sorcerers, including Lord Meyrick, would have to be summoned on the morrow to assist.

She mentioned the conflict raging within the Nine Realms, and on its borders, due to the inactivity of the Bifrost. A grave look passed between Thor and Frigga, but as soon as she cast a glimpse my way, she spoke no more of it. I suspected she did not wish to burden me with further concerns, for there were many worlds that held my cares. Truth be told, I appreciated the ignorance for once, if only for a moment. I already had enough on my mind.

After traversing the corridor of royal apartments, we slowed to a halt at the doors that would lead into what had once been my chambers. I looked about, unable to keep from lingering over the door across the way from mine. _How long has it been_, I wondered, _since anyone stepped inside?_

My trance broke the instant Thor dropped a hand on my shoulder. I blinked up at him, taking in his grime-covered armour, his dishevelled hair, his weary posture. I imagined I did not look any better. There was a flicker of gloom in his eyes, even as he smiled. "Welcome home, Eirlys."

I knew he meant well, welcoming me back, but it stirred the great ache that had settled deep in my heart. It rose to the surface, displacing all that I'd used to push it down. Doleful smile in place, I patted his hand and murmured my words of gratitude. His cheer seemed to falter before he turned from me and entered his own chambers, the door shutting in his wake.

I started when Frigga grasped my hand. "Come, we've prepared your chambers," she said. As she turned, my fingers slipped from hers, and she led the way inside.

The sitting chamber looked as it had when I last left it. The shelves were bare, as was the desk and the fireplace. All cold, all empty. I had been so accustomed to seeing the desk piled high with tomes that it didn't look right without them. I strode further inside, surveying the entirety of the room. It felt so familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

"There is some clothing you left behind, in the wardrobe," she told me. "I shall send for a meal to be brought here." Her hand skimmed along my bare arm. "You need your rest."

Then she left, and I was alone.

Letting loose a shuddering breath, I crossed the room and leaned on the desk, palms pressed against the chilly surface. The sun cascaded through the windows, its harsh glare bestowing more grief than comfort. I rubbed at the growing ache in my neck before undoing the knot of my scabbard. Pausing, I beheld the lacquered wood. It was as glossy as it had been the day it was gifted to me, albeit with a few mendable scratches. When I drew the sword, I examined the dried blood that had found its way into the engravings, making the runes indecipherable.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I rested the sword and scabbard alike on the desk. With unsteady fingers, I undid the buckles of my breastplate and allowed it to fall to the ground with a resounding _clang_. It bounced and trembled, toppling over onto its side. My armour was well beyond use now. I thought to commission a new set, but the notion made me ill. I wanted no part in battle anymore.

I ran a hand through the tangled mess that was my hair and made my way towards the bedchamber. The moment I stepped inside, I faltered. The bedchamber looked exactly as I remembered. Everything was tidy, clean, yet the same. My gaze hovered over the bed, the silken bedclothes neatly made and turned down. Chest tightening, I had to force myself to turn away.

At the vanity, I observed my disordered and filthy appearance. I looked like the risen dead, having just crawled from my own grave. Nothing but a shade of myself. With somewhat cleaner hands, I attempted to rub the dirt from my ashen skin and remove the knots from my dusty red hair. The venture proved unsuccessful.

Unable to withstand the sight of my reflection any longer, I ducked my head and began emptying my satchel. I removed my golden hair comb first and placed it reverently atop the vanity. Withdrawn next was a square of parchment that gave me pause; it was the letter Loki had bequeathed to me in the pages of his journal. I'd forgotten that I had taken it with me. It had been a symbol of hope, a reminder that all my attempts to find him were not in vain, no matter the outcome. Jaw tensed, I tossed it, and the parchment fluttered to land somewhere beside the comb. I carried on with as much zeal as I could muster.

In the bathhouse, I dallied for well over an hour. I scrubbed myself clean and brushed out my hair with scented oils until it all but shone in the firelight. Not long after, the water lost its warmth, but I paid it no mind. It was downright chilly by the time I left, as was the meal left for me in my chambers. I ate little, having had my fill in the shawarma establishment at Tony Stark's behest.

Dusk had fallen upon Asgard by the time I shambled back into my bedchamber and settled atop the bed. My exhaustion was unlike anything I'd ever felt before—and that included the day I suffered an arrow wound to the side.

Soon, the stars emerged, and the moons began their voyage across the sky. And yet, for all my aching weariness, sleep saw fit to abandon me. I tossed and turned, finding myself on one side of the bed before the other. It seemed much too large now, by my lonesome. Curled on my side, I pressed a hand to the mattress, memories flooding my mind, unbidden. Memories of days I wished I'd never left behind.

In the dark of the night, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and lifted my eyes to peer out the balcony windows. The notion of going to see Loki crossed my mind—and not for the first time that day. Every time it did, I despaired at not knowing what to say to him. Not knowing what to think of him. Or if I even wanted to subject myself to his callous words again. Sighing, I buried my face in my hands. Eventually, I rose from my bed, slipping on a silk dressing gown, before roaming the corridors of the palace.

The Einherjar on duty watched me with curious eyes as I passed. A few must have recognized me, for I recognized a few of them. It made me feel like I was seventy years in the past. But when several bowed at my approach—something they'd never done before—they reminded me that I was still a princess of Alfheim. A dowager princess, no longer meant to be queen. Being part of the royal family was something I'd never become accustomed to. And now I was barely even that.

An erstwhile, familiar place was something I yearned for. A place that I hoped would not evoke memories of Loki.

The smell of herbs and fresh air tickled my nose seconds prior to my entering the healing room. Opposite the entryway, the double doors leading to the herb garden were always kept open in order to air out the stench of sickness and death. There was no necessity for it this day, I noted, for there were no patients, ill or injured, resting in the beds.

Somewhere to the right of the open doors sat two healers: one with whom I was acquainted, and one I was not. Marawen's all too familiar scowl was there to greet me when she stood from her seat. "Lady Eirlys, what has brought you to the healing room?" she said. "Do you have ails that require curing?"

_Not ails that can be cured by a healer_. "No, I am of good health," I replied, and her scowl deepened as if I'd interrupted an important task of hers for no good reason. "I only wish to walk the herb garden. I did not mean to disturb you."

She returned to her chair, not speaking another word.

I made to walk past, but tarried beside the healers' table instead. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Marawen."

"Likewise." Her tone was curt and aloof, which I'd been inured to long ago.

I glanced at the other healer who'd remained speechless and unmoving during our exchange. She was youthful—an apprentice, no doubt. Her face was not familiar, and it occurred to me that the apprentices I'd known in the past were likely full-fledged healers by now. This new apprentice's eyes widened when she looked upon me. I could only assume she was aware of who I was, although I knew not if it was my reputation as an apprentice or as a princess that preceded me. Smiling at her, I continued on my way, barefoot, across the healing room's cold marble floor.

The herb garden was changed, though its fragrance remained the same. The grass was soft and feathery underfoot as I trod between the slender bronze columns that held the latticework overhead. Aloft, the lattice bore numerous hanging plants and vines. On the ground, there were dozens upon dozens of different shrubs and flowers and herbs. At the far end sat a squat wall of sandstone; it was there that I found the dreamfoil.

The flora was larger than the one I'd taken from Svartalfheim. Given how much time had passed, it had to have been a descendent of the one I'd claimed. Under the soft beams of moonlight, the translucent leaves seemed to shimmer. I slumped to my knees, never minding the dampness of the grass, and leaned closer to scrutinize the branches, blooming and healthful. Brow furrowed, I ran my fingers along a drooping offshoot. A stem of leaves had been cut recently.

Tears sprouted in my eyes at the thought that my risk had been worth it, if it meant saving a life. I could have died in Svartalfheim. No... I most certainly would have died in Svartalfheim if it hadn't been for Loki. He'd helped me retrieve the dreamfoil. He'd helped heal the wound that would've meant my death. He'd carried me home.

Blindly, I scrabbled backwards until my back hit the nearest column. It seemed everywhere I went, it was impossible to keep him from my mind. Along with everything he'd done. Every crime he'd rendered on Midgard. All the people he'd killed.

Sagging against the bronze pillar, I reflected on the terrible things that had transpired in so few days: the deaths of Castien and the warriors who'd defended the palace, the unsuspecting humans—innocent lives taken in the name of peace. And Loki... _Seeing Loki in such a manner was simply the crowning jewel of the week_, I thought wryly.

The patter of water on my forearm startled me. When I glanced down, my vision blurred, I realized the tears I'd been fighting had escaped at last. As much as I tried to choke back my sorrow, a sob escaped my lips. Shoulders shaking, I drew my legs to my chest and hugged them close.

In the moonlight, I wept, hand pressed to my mouth, tears streaming down my face. My eyes burned, and I could hardly breathe as everything I'd bottled inside spilled forth. For the first time in days, I allowed myself to mourn. I mourned all the lives I'd seen end. I mourned the future Castien would never have with Driana. Most of all, I mourned the Loki I once knew, the Loki I'd left behind. And the fact that I loved him still.

* * *

Minutes passed, perhaps even hours.

Eventually, I just stopped and sat in the quietude. Rubbing at the dried tear tracks on my cheeks, I closed my eyes and rested my chin on my knees. The breeze rustled and shook the plants around me—the only sound that filled the nighttime air. Leaves fell from above, dancing to the ground like snowflakes. Head tilted back, I watched the moons travel across the sky until they were veiled by thick, opaque clouds. The dreamfoil lost its shimmer, and I was left in the darkness.

It was not long before I took a deep, shuddering breath, climbed to my feet, and crossed the garden. The healers glanced my way, gazes curious, as I hurried through the healing room. But they did not stall or speak to me, nor did I want them to.

With dry eyes and a pounding head, I managed to meander back to my bedchamber and curl myself atop the bedsheets.

I met the sun's rise with a mere three hours of sleep. Even as the light strayed across the rumpled bedclothes, I lay staring at the canopy, hoping—praying—that I would return to a dreamless slumber. But I never did. So I clambered out of bed, slow and reluctant, before preparing for the day's events.

I recalled the Asgardians' plan to restore the Bifrost with the power of the Tesseract. They had hopes of a swift repair, for much of the Nine Realms had delved into mayhem and conflict without the Bifrost. First, they needed to call upon the sorcerers who'd been away from Asgard when the Rainbow Bridge was destroyed. Then they would need to ride out to the Bifrost observatory. From what I remembered Frigga mentioning, it could be some months before the Bifrost would be fully functional.

My movements were sluggish as I left my chambers, and they remained so when I reached the entrance hall. It was there that I found Queen Frigga, the All-Father, and a score of Einherjar. A dozen newly arrived sorcerers mingled amongst them, having been called to Asgard with the power of the Tesseract.

Dawn had come and gone, now melting into day. And it appeared as though the congregation was already preparing to depart for the Bifrost observatory.

Of course, I would not go without one more happy reunion.

"Eirlys, I feared I had seen the last of you."

Through the gathering, Lord Meyrick came tottering forwards. A small smile played at my lips as he took my hands into his. "I feared I was to be stranded on Midgard," I admitted. I nearly added that I was fortunate to have found the Tesseract and returned with it to Asgard, but somehow I didn't feel particularly fortunate.

Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the terrible pit in my stomach that had been there since I first saw Loki on Earth. "How... how does Alfheim fare?"

"Quite well, all things considered. My apprentices have gone on a leisurely trip to the lake with a certain group of ladies," he informed me. I could do no more than nod, well aware that he was referring to Driana and my ladies-in-waiting. We'd agreed that the fewer who knew about Castien's child, the better. It would be Faradei's decision, how to proceed.

"And what of our new king?" I asked. "How does he bear his burden?"

Meyrick released a sigh. "He struggles, of course. He was never groomed to become king like his brother. But, with the blizzard quieting at last, Lord Frey has since returned to the palace alongside the better part of our warriors. Under Frey's tutelage, I do believe Faradei will find his way."

The tidings lifted my spirits a touch, though little more than that. With nothing else to impart, he patted my hands and let them fall before turning to face the crowd. Following his gaze, I looked upon the gathering of sorcerers and sorceresses. One in particular held my regard. I could see her watching us over the heads of several other sorcerers. Eyes alight, she parted from her company with a short word and made her approach.

The sorceress was youthful—likely of a similar age to me. She was an Aesir, that much was certain, with her golden blond hair and bright green eyes. Her unconventional garb was comprised of a long green tunic, thigh-high boots to match, and not much else besides the three-pronged circlet on her brow. Gracing Meyrick with a wide smile, she curtsied exuberantly.

"Lord Meyrick, a pleasure as always."

"It has been many a year, Amora," Meyrick replied. "You look lovely as ever." He turned to me and grasped my shoulder. "I'm sure you remember my apprentice... well, she's no longer my apprentice—"

"Ah, yes, the Lady Eirlys." She enthralled my eyes with hers; they were as green as the jade-coloured circlet she bore. "We met once, some decades ago, when you were the queen's apprentice. Do you remember?"

I made myself smile, even if I was in no mood to smile. "I'm afraid I do not."

Amora shrugged. "Just as well. I have a good mind for names and faces." With a long, slender finger, she tapped at her bottom lip. "You are the daughter of Lord Bjoran, yes?" I could only nod. "I was teaching some of the younglings in Vanaheim when the Bifrost was destroyed. Your father is well, if you wished to know."

An uncomfortable heat crawled up my neck. It had been a long time since thoughts of my father saw fit to cross my mind. And even longer since I'd seen him. I last visited Vanaheim with Castien perhaps twenty years ago, as the Princess of Alfheim. My father seemed pleased then. Proud, even. In the end, reaping my father's pride tasted no sweeter than a mouthful of ash. "Yes, I am pleased to hear it," I said courteously. "I was most concerned."

"Well, I am sure you will see him once we have reignited the Bifrost," she said, beaming. "Which we shall begin in mere moments." With the nod of her head, she gestured in the direction of the congregation. "I believe the All-Father is expecting us, Lord Meyrick."

"Of course, of course. The sooner we begin, the sooner I will be able to retrieve the wine stores I stowed away in my Vanir cottage." Meyrick started to turn, his movements as slow as a fog rolling across a plain, before he said, "I will grant you one thing, Eirlys." Over his shoulder, he peered at me, eyes twinkling. "After so long, I suppose I am finally in need of a walking stick."

For the first time in a long while, I let out a breath of laughter. "I will see to it that one is made for you."

Nodding amiably, he ambled back over to the All-Father with Amora at his side.

I stood apart, watching the sorcerers and Einherjar marshal themselves. With so many on hand, they would all have to travel down the Rainbow Bridge in a massive caravan.

"Perhaps you would like to join us?"

Peering round, I supplied a small smile for Queen Frigga, though it was short-lived. "I do not wish to get in the way."

"You won't," she said. The grand assembly began its departure, but I dithered a moment longer. "It will be a great spectacle. And I have much I would like to discuss with you, Eirlys."

Unable to deny our much-needed conversation, I joined her in a stroll through the entrance hall.

As we drifted some ways behind the others, Frigga cleared her throat in the soft and mild fashion befitting of a queen. "You should know, I have been to the dungeons." _To see Loki_, were the words she did not say. I wasn't certain if she was too troubled by the implication to speak it or if she was afraid it would upset me.

Regardless, my mood grew a little darker. "Has he spoken to you?"

"Very little." She bowed her head to the guards at the grand entrance while we passed beneath the magnificent arch. "But I spoke much to him. And I know he was listening."

"Listening, but not heeding." I lowered my gaze to my hands, the right cupped within the left. On my right, I still wore Loki's ring. After all these years, I had never removed it. Sometimes I forgot it was even there, so accustomed to it I had become. Its gleam had not lessened since the day he'd slipped it into my hand. _Dwarfish make_, I mused. _The ring is sure to outlive me_. Now, it only served as a reminder of how different things once were. _How did everything go so wrong?_

"My lady, why was he never told of his true parentage?"

The question was met with a long stretch of silence. Together, we slowed to a stop and awaited our turn for a carriage. When I glanced her way, she deigned to reply, "We thought it best for him. We wanted to ensure he would never feel different."

"But he did," I said, letting my hands drop to my sides. "He... he never felt like he was enough. I have to wonder if he sought to conquer the humans to change that." Saying it aloud made my throat tighten, but I refused to let it be heard in my voice. "Norns, I don't know... He's done such a terrible thing."

She grasped my hand. "And yet you love him all the same."

I lifted my teary eyes to meet hers. "And you still treat him as if he were your son."

With great rue, the queen shook her head. "I don't believe that will ever change." She withdrew her hand from mine. Oddly, I felt cold without her touch, and no spell could ward the feeling away. "I would have you speak with him. Make peace with Loki."

My brow furrowed. Once upon a time, she had brokered peace between Loki and me, had somehow convinced him to apologize for all the misdeeds he'd done unto me. I'd long suspected she meant for me to befriend him, but I didn't think she expected our relationship to develop into what it had.

"Eirlys, I would not have you living in regret if you did not see him before it is too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For you to find a way to heal."

I stared at her, my heart twisting. While I was hesitant to believe such an accomplishment was possible, I could not refute her. I knew she was right. No matter how much it would hurt, I had to see him. He haunted me day and night. There was something unfinished between us. Something that required closure. I could not be certain if closure could be found, but I had to try. I had to find a way to heal.

Even so, three days had passed before I mustered the courage to descend into the dungeons. I slipped into a routine before then, occupying my mind with whatever I could. My mornings were spent observing the sorcerers restoring the Bifrost with the Tesseract. The powerful, ancient magic fascinated me despite my having no hope of understanding it.

The afternoons were whiled away in the company of Sif and the Warriors Three. Although we exchanged few words, I still appreciated the simple joy of watching them spar again. At times it felt like nothing had ever changed when I was with them. But then I would see Thor—whose appearances were few—and remember how much time I'd let slip through my fingers.

It was nothing specific that spurred me into action. Perhaps it was the agony of another sleepless night or the fact that I thought about Loki in the midst of every quiet moment. Nevertheless, the day finally came when I navigated the corridors of the north wing with slow and careful steps. Despite the endless number of Einherjar lining the halls, scrutinizing my every move, I could not help but feel alone.

At the entranceway that would lead down into the dungeon, I paused. I stared into the abyss, unable to move, as though I were afraid that I would not return should I continue forward. The very intention of this venture was to facilitate some form of peace. But I feared that I would not find the resolution I sought, and I would feel as trapped as I would in one of the dungeon cells.

Knowing that I would never be able to find rest otherwise, I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and descended.

The dungeons were as chilled as I remembered them to be, if not more so. I cast a spell to stave off the cold and strode further, the stone-lined corridors seeming to close in on me. Fisting my hands at my sides, I ignored the feeling. More than once I felt the desire to turn back. But I fought the urge and soon found myself standing amongst the towering doors.

I came to the pair that would lead to the cell block containing Loki. Two Einherjar were stationed on either side, the largest guards I'd ever seen. A part of me wondered if they were there to discourage me. "I would speak with him," I said. "With... Loki, that is."

The guardsmen exchanged a glance before the one to my left spoke, "Princess Eirlys, I presume?"

"That would be me."

"Our queen has bid us to grant you passage," the second guard told me. "But our king has asked that this be the only visit you make."

My heart clenched. All the same, I understood why Odin would make such a request. Solitude comprised a significant part of Loki's punishment, to be sure. It should have been obvious to me, but, somehow, the thought of never seeing Loki again had not crossed my mind until the Einherjar stated it so.

In all likelihood, Odin would've preferred that I not see him at all. _He must have permitted this visit as a courtesy to me and nothing more_, I thought. "Then I shall not refute the All-Father's word."

The guard turned on his heel and unlocked the door, his ring of keys rattling loudly in the otherwise lifeless dungeon. The heavy stone and metal doors croaked as they swung wide; it was a doorway not often opened.

I gave a single nod to the Einherjar and sidled inside.

The ward had been unaltered since I last visited. On this day, however, seven of the twelve cells were occupied. The walls and floors of the corridor made it feel like a cavern, and it might have seemed little more than a tomb had the inside of the prisons not been pure white. There were no doors, no bars, just energy fields to keep the domains apart.

Within seven cells sat the prisoners of Asgard; the majority of them were Dark Elves, those who remained from the siege. I knew not if they lingered because they still refused to speak or if they saw themselves safer here than in the path of the Mad Titan. It was no challenge to assume this great and frightening figure had agents across the realms. Should he want the Dark Elves dead, they would surely cease breathing the moment they were released from Asgard, if not before.

At the far end, Nalak inhabited the same cell he'd inhabited seventy years prior. He was on the floor, his back to the wall, eyes closed. For the most part, his appearance hadn't changed, save for the length of his stark white hair. To look upon him made me feel such profound sorrow. Decades had already passed him by while he lived in this prison. Centuries might go by without a difference in his situation. Maybe an entire lifetime. Did Loki have the same fate ahead of him?

Swallowing thickly, I veered towards the cell opposite Nalak's. It was the only other enclosure in this entire ward that contained a single occupant.

My breath caught the moment I saw him.

On the right side of the cell, he sat, slouched against the wall. He had one hand propped on a bent knee, the other resting on the floor. There was something oddly casual about his posture, as if he were relaxing in the garden beneath the willow tree. The cell was illuminated with overhead lights so bright that I had to squint against them when I approached.

Surveying him all the while, I ascended the three stone steps that led to the transparent wall that separated us. Though it had been days since our return, he had not changed from his scuffed leather and metal attire. The cuts on his face were healed and gone now, his skin pallid as ever. His eyes remained shut, and I saw no indication that he was awake until I came to a stop.

He lifted his head to gaze upon me, and I froze. The way we stared at one another, unspeaking and indifferent, we might as well have been strangers.

"Did my mother send you?" His voice echoed in the lofty chamber, drifting farther and farther to be soaked up by the walls around me. It was rather unsettling, how much I missed the sound of his deep timbre.

"I wanted to see you," I replied, softer. I did not like to hear my speech echoed back to me. "Though I admit, she did seek to encourage me. It seems she is wont to mediate peace between us."

He dropped his gaze then, and spoke no more.

In the stark silence of the cold black and white chamber, I realized that I had not thought of what to say to him. This was likely to be my only chance to voice anything to him. But I'd spent so much time trying to conjure the courage to visit him that I never put words to everything I wished to express.

The sound of his fingers rapping against the book beside him filled the air. I recognized the gold-chased cover—one of his books from the astronomy spire. It was the only thing he had in his cell other than the bare necessities. I wondered if he would've appreciated repossessing his journals. But then I inwardly scoffed at the idea. _What's he going to write about? Nalak's sleeping pattern?_

"I discovered the letter you'd hidden in one of your journals," I found myself saying. His eyes flickered up to meet mine. "You meant for me to find it. But I could never understand why you wrote it."

"We were investigating the secret paths between worlds, I thought it prudent." His fingers ceased, and he leaned forward a touch. "I should've destroyed it. And those journals."

"But you didn't." I thumbed the crystal at my collarbone almost absentmindedly. "You meant for me to find you. No matter what had befallen you."

The look he threw me was cold enough to send a shiver crawling down my spine. "That was before you wed another."

Indignation swept over me, but I managed to rein in my moment of ire. "My marrying Castien did not mean that I loved you any less."

"Then you must not have loved me much at all."

His words were a blow to the chest. "Is that what you think? When I told you—"

"If you mean to tell me that you still do, you would achieve nothing but the wasting of your breath." The smile at the corner of his mouth was a cruel jest. "I could always see through your lies, Eirlys."

That stung most of all, the assertion that my obstinate love for him was a lie, even before the words were set loose. And a part of me understood why he would believe my sentiments towards him had changed. It was a question I sometimes asked myself: how could I cling onto those feelings after seeing all that he'd done?

"Then answer me something, Loki." Letting out a breath, I leaned closer to the cell, so close that I could feel the warmth of the translucent barrier between us. "What led you to... this?" I gestured to the walls that confined him. "What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"I fully intended on taking what I deserved." He sat straighter and pressed a hand to his chest. "I was, after all, born to be a king."

I shook my head at that. "You never wanted to be king."

A derisive smile skewed his lips before he stood and sauntered across his cell. "Yes, well, things have changed."

"So, you would slaughter all those humans—all those people for a throne to sit upon?"

"A few human lives are a small price to pay."

"Any life is too great a price to pay. They are not the rabid animals you thought them to be. Did you not see how formidable a force they were? They are no less than us. You would have to be blind not to see it." My words seemed to give him pause, or so I hoped. In spite of Thor's adamance that Loki could not be reached, I kept hoping—beyond reason, perhaps—that I might be heeded. "And what of Thor? You would injure him for your throne? He is your brother—"

"He is not my brother," Loki snapped. "And he hasn't a care for me."

Chastened, I closed my eyes and tugged my fingers through my hair. Arguing with him was not going to assuage any of our problems. Aside from that, it was becoming plain that our discourse would not mend anything either. He was listening, but not heeding.

"I would have you understand one thing, Loki." With a quaking breath, I held his gaze. "I should hate you for... for everything you've done. I've seen my fair share, and I'm aware of all that I have not: the people you've killed—good people, innocent people."

His expression darkened, but he made no move to interject.

"I want to hate you for it, I really do." Tears sprouted unbidden in my eyes, and I promptly banished them with a mental rebuke. "But I cannot. I could never hate you, and that is the truth."

In the span of a breath, he was towering over me, a forbidding giant casting long shadows. Instinct told me to draw back, but I resisted. "Perhaps you should," he said. "Any reasonable mind would."

"I never claimed it was a rational notion."

"After all I've done, how could you not?" He spread his arms, bringing my attention to his cell once more. "There was a time when you believed I wasn't a monster. Yet I have been caged at last. What must you think of me now?"

I stood straighter and clutched a hand to my chest, fearing that I would not be able to hold my tears at bay. I would not allow myself to weep in front of Loki. I would not have myself weeping at all. The longer I remained in this chamber with him, deep in the dungeon, the less courage I seemed to have. So I spoke with what little conviction I had left.

"I maintain everything I told you that day you sat upon the throne of Asgard. Your birth and your blood do not make you a monster. Your actions make you what you are."

I did not expect to see his features fall as they did. From the moment I stood in front of his cell, he'd bathed me in his mockery, his disdain, his cold resentment. But not now. Now, there was no facade. No lie in his gaze. He did nothing more than look upon me with those pale blue eyes of his. He just seemed so... lost. And for a heartbeat, I felt as though he was the Loki I knew. The Loki who taught me magic. The Loki who apologized for tormenting me. The Loki who loved me.

But then I glanced at the cell, the sheen of magic separating me from him, and I realized no amount of words could set things right. Nothing could be said to undo the horror he'd unleashed upon the Nine Realms—the deaths that he'd wrought. There was no going back from that.

When he did not speak again, and I could no longer bring myself to, I lowered my gaze, turned away, and made my exit.

* * *

**Author's Note:** To those who were wondering, I will not be delving into _Thor: The Dark World_ content yet. The reason for this is because I started this story before the movie was released and I sort of diverged a bit, hence the AU-ness.

A big thanks to everyone reading/reviewing/favouriting/following. Thanks also to my fantastic beta, **Hr'awkryn**.

The chapter title was inspired by the song _A Place Called Home_ by Kim Richey.

Please take a moment to write a review!


	9. Loki: Lonely Souls

II.

* * *

**NINE**

* * *

_loki: lonely souls_

* * *

Time had never trickled by so slowly in his entire life. Not even when he fell from the Bifrost, plunging through the endless depths of the Nine Realms without complete certainty of whether he'd find passage or crash into a star. At the least, he'd known there would be an end to it all, no matter the outcome. But not here. Not now.

Loki sat with his back to the wall, staring at the shimmering gold barrier opposite him. It had become his favourite pastime—if he had a favourite; it was difficult to say he derived pleasure from it. Twirling his bronze goblet between his fingers, he rolled it across the floor and watched it bounce off the barrier with a resounding _thrum_ before it trundled back into his waiting hand. He did it again. _Clink, thrum, clack_. And again. _Clink, thrum, clack_. He'd been doing it for over an hour. It was the most deplorable waste of time in the Nine Realms.

Of course, it wasn't as though he had any other pressing matters to attend to. He'd been confined to this cell for a little more than three months. Ninety-six days, by his count—although there was no knowing how accurate that number was, considering he hadn't seen a shred of daylight since returning from Midgard.

_Clink, thrum, clack._

The days hadn't gotten any better, nor had they gotten worse. He might as well have been drifting through space. There was a stack of books sitting in the corner of his cell, delivered at the behest of Queen Frigga. He didn't exactly feel grateful for them. He couldn't be expected to while away the coming centuries with _reading_. Even so, there was not much else to do. The events of his days had seen little variation: reading, eating, reading, napping, reading, staring at the ceiling, reading, and attempting to converse with Nalak who always cowered in the corner of his cell as though the Mad Titan were standing right above him.

_Clink, thrum, clack._

The only real interruption to his mind-numbing routine were his mother's visits. They had been frequent at first, but now her visits were fewer and farther between. Perhaps she was tiring of him. Tiring of his insistence that he was in the right and that he deserved to take Midgard and rule over its people. It was a recurring conversation. He might've tired of it too if it hadn't been the sole conversation he'd had with anyone for months.

_Clink, thrum, clack._

His brother, of course, had not seen him once. Nor did Odin, for that matter. But he had never expected either of them. Not after Odin made his opinion so clear. Instead of exacting death upon Loki, the All-Father swept him aside, buried him deep beneath Asgard, and prohibited others from ever stepping foot in the dungeons again.

_Clink, thrum, clack._

Thoughts of Eirlys breached his mind more often than he would've liked. He tried not to think about her. But not thinking about her was no easier than finding something worthwhile to occupy his time.

She'd visited him just once. As brief as it had been, he could not keep from replaying those moments over and over again. Her words troubled him far more than he anticipated. But then, he supposed he always did treasure her thoughts, her beliefs. Her sentiments. _Any life is too great a price to pay_, she'd said. _Your actions make you what you are_.

Snatching up the goblet, he ceased his exercise in tedium and tightened his hand around the cold bronze. He wanted to dismiss everything she'd said, to ignore the conversation in its entirety—as if it could be so easy. Too keenly could he remember the look she had given him. It was a look of utter sorrow and despair and unending weariness. Like each and every day was a struggle. He'd seen how the tears welled in her eyes. As much as he wanted to forget, he could not. He'd hurt her, he knew, and he damned himself for it.

With a heavy sigh, he flung his goblet across the cell. The tarnished bronze ricocheted off the barrier before clattering to the ground. If it had been anyone else, he could've brushed aside the refutations. Coming from Eirlys, however, he could not help but consider her words. _Any life is too great a price to pay_. She valued life in a way he never did, and it made it so much more difficult to disregard the lives he'd taken. The thought gave rise to a strange twist in his heart. _No_, he thought. _Do not dwell on it. Never dwell on it_. Shutting his eyes, he banished the feeling.

His musings were interrupted by the _clack-clack-clacking_ of heels on the flagstones outside his cell. Brow cinched, he eased himself to his feet and began circling the cell, drawing nearer to the barrier at the front. For a fleeting moment, he thought it might've been Eirlys. But the notion was soon dismissed. With the All-Father's restrictions in place, a visit from her was improbable. Not to mention their previous conversation hadn't lent itself to a repeat performance.

The sight of his caller generated a sliver of surprise, though whatever surprise he might've felt was quickly buried beneath a mountain of irritation. "Ah, Amora," he said, coming to a stop mere inches from the barrier. "Of all the sorcerers in the Nine Realms, Odin just had to summon you. Your own treachery is so easily forgotten."

"My treachery?" She smiled faintly, never climbing any higher than the bottom step of the stairs leading to his cell. "It was Lorelei who was found guilty of enthralling Asgardians with her sorcery, not me. They trust me because I have all the subtlety she lacked. There are few who know the full breadth of my talents."

Turning, he walked alongside the barrier, hands folded behind his back. "Of course no harm comes from the fact that she's dead either. A dead sister is such a simple way to garner sympathy, is it not? Especially under such tragic circumstances—oh, and you tried to save her, isn't that what you said?"

Any hint of amusement at his expense vanished. "I would not be so eager to mock if I were you," she sneered.

Loki stopped and faced her. "How could I not? Mockery has and always will be one of my most favoured pastimes. It has been so long since I've had opportunity to employ it."

"Ah yes, you've been steeping in silence, haven't you? You must be in such agony, with no one to hear your voice but yourself." Amora issued forth a chuckle and gestured to the walls of his cell. "I never thought I would see you in this place," she remarked. "But perhaps it's not so surprising. You were always so quiet and conniving—the perfect recipe for trouble. What a shock it must've been for your family."

He tried not to roll his eyes. His patience was running thin, and he'd never had much patience for Amora. "Spare me."

She did not heed his request. "Speaking of surprises, I must admit I was astonished by your choice in lover. Well, perhaps I should say it's her choice that astonished me, really." The mention of Eirlys somehow made his blood boil. He knew what Amora was striving for; this type of exchange between them was nothing new.

"I met her—Eirlys, isn't it?" Eyes glinting, she began pacing along the bottom step. "She's a sweet girl. I haven't a clue what she ever saw in you."

By this point, he would've walked away from her if he could. But, to his great misfortunate, doing so was not an option. The confines of his prison had never felt more excruciating.

"Most maidens"—she gestured to herself—"would've gone straight for the golden boy, our noble and wondrous prince of Asgard: heir to the throne, superior warrior, the very image of a god. But not her." Upon coming to a standstill, she shook her head. "It's odd, isn't it? That she would take interest in you. Oh, but in the end, she didn't want you, did she? Opportunity presented itself, and she took it. Because why would she tie herself to a second son when she can marry an heir?"

It took everything in his resolve not to ram his fist into the barrier. After all, it wouldn't have done anything except scald his hand. He knew better than to succumb to her goading. This was a game they played often. And now, with him in his cell, it was all the more fun for her. It had begun when they were in their youth. Her and her sister's charms never worked on him, so she'd taken the opposite approach: provoking him. Gritting his teeth, he refused to let her get a rise out of him. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Now, if you're done amusing yourself, may we discuss the true purpose of your visit?"

Her lips pressed together, but she made no attempts to incite him again.

Loki inclined his head, peering as far down the cell block as he could. "I take it you charmed your way past the guards."

"Indeed I did." It was pride that brought back her smile. "They won't be telling anyone that I'm here."

The devious nature of her visitation was not unusual given the circumstances. It was the fact that she even bothered to visit that gave rise to suspicion. They never did have much fondness for one another. "Then tell me: what exactly are you here for?"

"I am here on behalf of a mutual... friend, I suppose you could call him." When she glanced behind at Nalak, a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. The Dark Elf had wound himself in a corner, as he was prone to doing. "I believe even Nalak has some familiarity with him."

Loki could not keep from taking a single, minute step back. This time, he was nearly overcome by a wave of surprise. "Mutual friend?" he said. "Did you enter into a bargain with this mutual friend of ours?"

When she returned her gaze to Loki, her glee seemed to falter, if only for a second. "Yes. Not that it is any of your concern."

He clutched his white-knuckled hands behind his back, out of her sight. "Do you intend on delivering me to him?"

Tapping a long, well-manicured fingernail against her bottom lip, she tilted her head side to side in deliberation. "When I enquired as to whether or not he wished to apprehend you, he took very careful consideration. It was a... 'lucrative idea'—his words, not mine."

Loki didn't want to think about the connotation behind that. _A lucrative idea for whom?_ Not for him, that much was plain. The Mad Titan had never been known to be benevolent unless it served his purposes.

"Of course, he is willing to give you a second chance," Amora said. "I convinced him that you would still be of use."

With a derisive laugh, he turned to slump into his plush velvet chair, his long legs coming to rest atop the footstool. "I sincerely doubt anyone can convince him of anything he doesn't already want."

The assertion made her pale for the span of a breath, but she didn't dare let her facade subside for any longer than that. "Then it need not be said. You know what it is he wants." At last, Amora approached the cell. She didn't stand as near to it as Eirlys, nor did she have reason to. "If you do not uphold your end of the bargain, you know he will take it by force, and you will suffer for it. I am simply offering you an opportunity to escape such a fate."

Plucking up the open book from beside his boots, he stared down at the words with mild interest. "The problem, Amora," he said, "is that I have no reason to trust you."

"Oh, but I have a plan already in motion. Whether or not you seize this opportune moment is your choice." She leaned close and nodded over her shoulder in Nalak's direction. "The Dark Elf, on the other hand, will not be so fortunate."

_A plan?_ Loki pondered. _To release us from this prison. But not to set us free_. It seemed he had little say in the matter, regardless of his trust in her. Should he refuse to follow Amora's schemes, he would fall prey to the threats that had been laid upon him not long ago. Once he took all of these aspects into consideration, he frowned. He wasn't enthused by the lack of choice. Even so, he did feel it was better than the alternative.

"Why the hesitation, Loki? I thought you would be absolutely eager to clutch at the chance to escape this place," she said. His subsequent silence roused laughter from her. It made him want to drown her out with shouts of his own, but he refrained. "You fear his wrath, don't you? Is that not the reason why you yet remain within your prison?"

The implication sent an unpleasant heat crawling along the back of his neck. From the corner of his eye, he observed Nalak, the once illustrious leader of a Dark Elf clan—one of the remaining few, no less. Loki resented the notion that he could be like him: choosing to cower in his cell for all eternity, endlessly afraid that the Mad Titan's retribution would strike him in the end. No, he was nothing like Nalak.

"Escaping this cell was never a viable option," he replied.

She scoffed at that. "You are the God of Mischief and Lies—a grand sorcerer beyond the skill of all others. Is that not what you always contended?"

Jaw clenched, he returned his regard to the book in his hands. "I think you underestimate the integrity of this cell."

"Oh, no, that's not it at all." With a faint smile on her lips, she sauntered parallel to the cell, hips swaying, until she stood in his line of sight. "You don't mean to tell me that you are willingly serving your penance. Did you think you could atone for all that you have done? Did you think this would ever change?"

Loki wasn't quite certain why, but Eirlys drifted to the fore of his thoughts right then. Would he ever be able to see her again? If he stayed in this cell, there was always a minuscule chance the All-Father would one day permit her to see him. It was all he could do down here: wonder and wait. But then it became a question of whether she'd visit, even if she were able. The doubt caused an ache within him, one that he fought to disregard.

For seventy years, they'd been worlds apart. He'd been content with pretending he'd never known her. Never loved her. Never thought about her every day. But when they saw one another in the throne room after seven long decades, that illusion was irreparably shattered. It had come back to him in a great rush, the weight of it almost too much for him to bear. Nevertheless, he'd maintained his resolve, persevered, and banished her from Asgard. He'd already been too deeply involved with the Jotuns' incursion and Thor's exile; he couldn't risk letting her stop him.

During his time in the dark recesses of the Nine Realms, it had been easier to bury his memory of her. After all, there hadn't anything to evoke those memories. _Except her hair comb_. Over the many years, he'd often thought about discarding it. Even after falling from the Bifrost, he considered getting rid of it. In the end, he never could. He abhorred himself for clinging onto such sentiment. But it was a small part of Eirlys that he had to keep.

Despite it being the truth, he was loath to admit how much he missed her.

In the months that he spent locked up in this cell, the knowledge that she lived in Asgard above while he rotted in the dungeon below served to remind him of everything they'd had—everything they should have had.

He didn't think he could withstand it a moment longer.

With deliberate movements, he shut his book and slid it onto the footstool before him. He rose from his seat before closing the distance between him and Amora. The blond sorceress looked upon him with significant expectation. She already knew what he was going to say. There wasn't much else that could be said. "So, you intend to liberate me from this endless, maddening boredom?"

She glanced up and around at the cell that had kept him for months. "That was the idea."

For the first time since her arrival, Loki actually smiled. "Then what do you propose?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I figured it was necessary. After all, there's only so much Loki can think/say/do when hardly anyone visits.

Thanks again to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, or followed. You guys are the best. And a big thanks to my beta, **Hr'awkryn**, as well as to my friend, **rip-my-wings-out**, for her advice.

If anybody here watches "Agents of SHIELD," allow me to say that I'm aware of Lorelei's existence—and the fact that she's alive—in canon. I'd written these chapters before that episode aired, so now, by sheer coincidence, I am contradicting canon. Like every other discrepancy, we can just chalk it up to this being an alternate universe!

The chapter title was inspired by the song _Lonely Soul_ by UNKLE.


	10. The Enchantress

II.

* * *

**TEN**

* * *

_the enchantress_

* * *

"Set your feet further apart, Alaric, otherwise your opponent will take advantage of your lack of balance."

To prove her point, Sif prodded the boy in the shoulder with her wooden sword, making him take a stumbling step backwards. Although she had done so in all seriousness, Gunnhild, sister of Alaric, let loose a childish giggle. The sound of it managed to bring a smile to my face.

Alaric was far less appreciative of the ridicule. Within seconds, Gunnhild and Alaric stood inches apart, their voices raised in a cacophony of indignation. Sif was forced to intervene—and not for the first time this day. I could see it in the tightness of her expression: her patience was worn beyond thin. I wondered if she regretted undertaking this task.

In an uncommon set of circumstances, Sif and I had been charged with minding Volstagg and Hildegund's children for the afternoon. With the Bifrost's repair coming to completion, a variety of events were taking place all at once. For one, a celebration was being organized, and Hildegund had been called upon to bake her well-renowned chocolate cakes. The anticipation had the palace abuzz with excitement.

Unlike those who cheerily awaited the Bifrost's restoration, Odin, Thor and a multitude of Asgard's warriors had taken to strategizing the reclamation of the Nine Realms. In the span of a year, numerous worlds had fallen into chaos absent the Asgardians. Following the siege laid by the Chitauri, a calm had settled upon Alfheim, for which I was grateful. But my concerns now lay with the welfare of Vanaheim. Although my father and Lord Njord yet lived, their forces were flagging. They struggled to defend the southern continent against marauders, as well as their own lands in the north, or so I'd been told. They were to be among the first to whom we would lend aid.

Even though I'd been called to help prepare the celebration as well as give voice to the defence of Vanaheim, I could not bring myself to do either. And, while Sif had been summoned to Odin's assembly, she'd opted to grace me with her company instead. I suspected that she worried over me—had been worrying over me since the moment I returned from Earth. Her care was not unwelcome, and perhaps that was the only reason why I did not discourage her from joining me.

So, with both Volstagg and Hildegund occupied, Sif and I had taken on the task of watching over their three children. Somehow, we decided that teaching them the basics of swordplay was an excellent idea.

"Alright, that is enough." Standing between Gunnhild and Alaric, a hand on both their shoulders, Sif cast each of them an exasperated look. "The three of you, take a drink of water and linger in the shade. I think we've had enough practice for the day." Gudrun, the youngest of the three, was more than eager to comply. Gunnhild and Alaric groaned in disappointment but did as they were told.

When they were lazing in the shade, cups of water in hand, Sif all but collapsed beside me in the grass. "You seem distracted, Eirlys. You haven't moved from this spot since we gave demonstration two hours ago."

Brow furrowed, I glanced down at Silvertongue resting in my lap. She was right, I realized. We'd shown the children several forms and movements before the heat proved too much for me. Without another thought, I sat in the grass. I hadn't even sheathed my sword. "I apologize. I should have lent aid in wrangling Gunnhild and Alaric."

A chuff of laughter escaped her. "I've handled quarrels between the Warriors Three before. I can handle them."

Twining blades of grass around her fingers, she gave me a careful look. "It's you I worry about. You've been distant these past months, and you look as though you have not been sleeping."

I chewed the inside of my cheek and lifted my eyes to the skies. It had been three months, two weeks, and four days since I last spoke to Loki. In that time, I'd lived an idle life in the palace, reading and sparring and lacking sleep. Under the stars, I would visit the herb garden and look upon the dreamfoil. Or worse, I would walk barefoot in the garden overlooked by my bedchamber and sit beneath the willow tree—on those nights, I found no peace at all.

"My thoughts have not been kind," I told her. "They keep me from much-needed slumber."

"At the least, your lack of sleep has not diminished your skill in combat," Sif said, nodding towards my sword. A small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, but it never thrived. "You were taught well, even in my absence."

I fought to maintain my smile, as if hoping it would assuage her worries. Castien had been the one to teach me, sword in hand. After so many years, it had become a routine for us: sparring in the morning, then playing at being husband and wife for the court in the afternoon. I hadn't been very good at acting the part of his wife, but I did best him in single combat on plenty of occasions. Driana would laugh every time I knocked him off his feet, and especially so when I sent him flying into the mud. Of course, his deficiency with a sword was more than made up by his skill with a bow. My own skill with a bow had not improved since the day Fandral tried to teach me.

"I was most fortunate to have Castien." I held Silvertongue aloft, its silver finish polished and shining like the surface of a lake. "My father never liked that I yearned to wield a blade in my youth. It was not befitting of a lady, he would always say. After my mother died, he went so far as to discipline the soldiers who tried to teach me." Swallowing thickly, I lowered my sword. "I was his daughter, a hand to be married off, and nothing more."

Sif leaned her shoulder into mine. "That's not true. You have fought alongside the finest warriors any world has ever seen. Your father would be proud to learn that."

I issued forth a sardonic breath of laughter. "For most of my life, I have done most everything in the name of making my father proud. Even... even give up that which I loved most..."

Of late, I often thought about the day my father told me of my betrothal to Castien. I remembered our discussion, how I'd accepted it. I'd agreed to it. Although my reasons for doing so were many, I knew I had, in part, done it for my father. The weight of that never seemed to lift from my shoulders. At the time, that had been my greatest fear: succumbing to the life I was always fated to bear. Married to someone not of my choosing. Forced to leave Loki behind. _I should never have left Asgard_. "I keep wondering if things might've been different had I stayed."

Frowning, Sif placed a hand on my arm. She knew to what I was alluding. "You don't mean to blame yourself for what he's done."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." With a rueful smile, I met her gaze. "But our lives would've been different, would they not?"

Her features fell, and I sensed her desire to refute me, to dissolve whatever blame I'd placed upon myself. But the shrill cry of fury from Gunnhild wrenched at our attention. We both peered across the yard to see Gunnhild and Alaric striking one another with their wooden swords, each blow wild and unfocussed. Sif huffed at the sight. I knew it wasn't the sudden squabbling that roused her ire—it was the flagrant lack of respect for the art of swordplay.

She managed to spare me an apologetic look before climbing to her feet. "Stop that right now, or I'm telling your father that you'll have to wait another decade before I hand you a sword again."

While she crossed the grass to end the conflict, I shook my head and plucked up Silvertongue's enamelled scabbard. Upon rising to my full height, I noticed that Gudrun still remained on the bench ahead, kicking her legs back and forth. Once I sheathed my sword, I joined her on the slab of stone, glad to be out of the sweltering heat. At first, she didn't say anything. But then she gave my blade a curious look, her coppery pigtails swinging as she canted her head.

"What's it like being a shieldmaiden?" she asked.

Her words generated a laugh from me. "I'm afraid I cannot say, for I am no shieldmaiden."

Gudrun furrowed her brow. "Are you certain? Don't you protect people?"

I made to answer, but it seemed I had no answer to offer. I supposed I could not refute her. In many ways, I did fight and defend as the shieldmaidens of the past did. But they were legends, steadfast warriors who vanquished evil with endless nobility and spirit. Unlike them, I wasn't sure if I could find the resolve to wage another day of battle. It had been a struggle to rise every morning. Some days, I had to remind myself to breathe. _Shieldmaiden_, she called me. It didn't feel right to be equated to them.

Before either of us could speak further, the courtyard's gate creaked open. The sight of Volstagg striding over the threshold initiated a chorus of "Papa! Papa!" His three children went running to him, screaming and shouting their stories of what we'd done earlier in the day.

Shortly behind, Thor entered the yard. Dressed in a dark grey cloak, he carried a sober air. And yet, as he trod across the grass, he graced Sif with a smile—not one of his customary grins, but a weary smile. She moved to meet him, salutations and a far less weary smile on her own lips. He dropped a hand on her shoulder, murmuring a few words, before turning to face me. "Eirlys, would you walk with me?" he asked.

I rose from my seat and joined them amidst the grass. When I shared a look with Sif, she held out her hand. With a nod, I slipped my sword into her palm. She would look after it; the words needn't be said. "You have my thanks, Sif." I hoped she understood the true extent of my gratitude.

Straightening my green tunic, I started for the gate alongside Thor. We paused only to bid farewell to Volstagg and his children.

Our pace was sedate when we entered the corridor, and it remained so as we made our way into the entrance hall. It was for my benefit, for I still carried the ache that came from sparring with Sif earlier that morning. My exhaustion would not have been as notable if I'd been well rested. But I had been restless for quite some time now, in both mind and body.

"As pleasant as a stroll may be, Thor," I said, absently rubbing at the grass stain on my elbow, "you were never one for silences." We stopped in the middle of the long, towering hall, just within sight of Bor and Buri. The All-Fathers of the past gazed upon us in the quietude. "You sought to have words with me, I presume."

There was something about his grave expression that disconcerted me. _Is this what we've become?_ I wondered. _Are we to be bereft of the cheery, thunderous prince he once was?_

He turned towards me, hesitating before he gathered his words. "I would have you accompany me to see Loki," Thor said at last.

The request had me recoiling. It wasn't fear of Loki himself that evoked such an aversion. It was a fear that my efforts to bury what I felt for him would be undone. Thus far, it had been a very painful, very gradual attempt. I could not bear living with such heartache for a moment longer. I didn't want to think about him day and night. In the beginning, I wanted to cling onto whatever hope I left for him. But now... now, I was coming to terms with the fact that he would spend the remainder of his life in the dungeons.

"I cannot." His brow cinched at my answer. I did not think I could explain my reasoning to Thor, so I employed the best excuse I could. "The All-Father would not have us paying Loki a visit. I have seen him once, but I do not believe I will be permitted the same again."

"I know. But this will not be a social call, Eirlys." Thor let out a sigh before moving to sit on the grand steps. "You have questions. As do I."

I understood immediately. "You want to ask him about the Mad Titan."

Elbows resting on his knees, he peered up at me. "Someone compelled him to pursue the Tesseract. Whether or not it is the one we've called 'the Mad Titan' all this time, we do not know. I wish to hear the truth from Loki for once."

I saw a great fire in Thor's eyes, a determination that had been absent these past months. With a gentle nod, I paced the steps to sit beside him. "Do you believe he will even be receptive to you?" My question reminded me of our endeavour to garner answers from Nalak, decades ago. Were we interrogating Loki now? Was he just another enemy? The thought nauseated me. "Are you of a mind that Loki will actually answer what you ask?"

"We must try. This may be the only opportunity we have to pose our questions about the Tesseract, about the sceptre... about the one who gifted him these things." Thor met my gaze, his expression darkening. "You told me that you sought justice for your people. For the death of Castien. I wish the same, and when the Bifrost is complete, we shall have that chance."

He was right. I did wish for answers. I did want justice. Even then, I wasn't sure my resolve could return me to the dungeons. "I... yes, that may be so. But you needn't have me accompany you."

The corners of his mouth turned downwards. "I thought you would see Loki once more, while we still can. My father will exercise more caution when the Bifrost is restored. Neither of us is likely to see him again." Despite my insistence that I couldn't face Loki, the reminder of not having a choice in the matter ached all the same.

It was painful to see Loki in this state. He was a prisoner of Asgard. A criminal. A murderer. And nothing could undo that. There was no altering the past, as much as I wished it.

Nevertheless, I could look to the future. I could fulfil the promise I made to Faradei. I could give Driana some semblance of closure. I could deal with the pain I dredged up every time I thought about Loki. And one day, perhaps, I could find some peace.

"How do you suppose we find our way past the guards?" I asked. "Your father has made a point of keeping Loki in solitude. I am not permitted to see him again."

After a moment, he shrugged. "They will let us pass if I request it. We have reason enough to see him. And I am still the Prince of Asgard." While I was dubious that such a simple explanation would work, I did not press him any further.

"Alright then," I said at last. "I will go with you."

Abruptly, Thor stood, as if knowing my answer all along. "I had every intention of going to the dungeons now."

I hummed and rose with his assistance. "I thought you would."

Together, we ascended the stairs and passed beneath the crossed axes of Bor and Buri. "I have been considering your suspicions about the Mad Titan—or whoever sent Loki to Earth," Thor said as we walked. The air grew cooler when we rounded a corner, crossing the threshold into the north wing. "I cannot help but wonder if this... Titan has skewed Loki's thinking. Loki had little ambition for the throne before my exile. And yet he vied for control over the humans with even less cause."

I frowned, my uncertainty matching his. Though perhaps it was not so difficult for me to fathom Loki's attempts to rule Asgard. He'd always been skeptical of Thor's capabilities as a king. I just never thought Loki would go so far as to take his place. His sudden interest in Midgard, on the other hand, was more difficult for me to understand. Loki never had much care for the humans. Why subjugate them now if not for the Tesseract? Was it possible the Mad Titan had convinced him to further his own ends?

"Do you think the Mad Titan... took advantage of Loki's predicament?" I asked. "Somehow I doubt Loki could be so easily swayed. It would take a shrewd intellect to manipulate him in such a manner."

"That is what worries me most."

The way down to the dungeons had become much too familiar for my liking. It was a dreary path to a dreary abode. As was customary, I warded away the chill with the mere flick of my fingers. Thor didn't seem to notice. He only continued to look grim and weary.

At the gates to Loki's cell block, the guards stopped us. "We have need to speak to the prisoners," Thor declared.

One of the guards glanced my way, a furrow in his brow. "The All-Father would not have us allow any more visitors to pass. Even you, Prince Thor."

Worried that they would go to Odin with reports of our attempt to see Loki, I gave voice to a lie, "It was the All-Father himself who sent us to interrogate the prisoners. You are free to enquire him about the command, though I cannot imagine he would be pleased at the intrusion."

The guards exchanged a wary look before one turned to unlock the doors. They stepped aside, neither bothering to speak again. Descending one last staircase, Thor and I entered the cell block and paced the lengthy chamber.

As we went, Thor eyed me curiously. I returned his regard, eyebrow raised. "You know your father would never let us down here if he knew," I told him. "It was... easier this way."

"No, I know." He peered ahead, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. "I just never expected it of you."

"I've had seventy years of practice. I'm accustomed to it."

We continued onwards, venturing past the cells and the prisoners within.

The Dark Elves were practically dead to the Nine Realms, drooping on the floor, the rise and fall of their shoulders slight. To see them like this, I pitied them. They had followed Nalak into a fool's war at the behest of a titan—he who Nalak feared most of all. Somehow rotting away in a dungeon beneath Asgard was a better alternative to whatever the Mad Titan had reserved for them. _In a hundred years' time, would Loki be the same? Bereft of life, yet unwilling to die._

Farther in, Loki sat entrenched in a plush velvet chair, eyes fixed upon the book in his hands. Since my previous visit, his cell had been furnished with a bed, a chair, a footstool, a basin, two small tables, and a mountain of books. _Queen Frigga's doing_, I surmised. _Even in here, he remains the voracious reader I've always known_.

When Thor stopped within reach of the golden barrier, Loki's eyes flickered upwards, only to return to his text a mere second later. "After all this time, you come to visit me now?" He turned a page, making a show of disregarding Thor.

Upon my approach, however, he sneered and lowered his book. "Ah, of course. Didn't have the courage to face me by yourself, Brother?"

Thor shook his head. "I didn't come here to fight with you, Loki."

Tossing his book onto the footstool with a soft _thump_, Loki rose to his full height, hands clutched behind his back. As he neared, the partition between us hummed, reminding us all that he was a prisoner kept before us. "To what do I owe this wondrous occasion? Don't tell me you actually snuck past the guards."

"We have come to ask about the one who gave you the sceptre," Thor said, his countenance bereft of the familiar warmth he'd once bestowed upon his brother.

"Of course you need my help." Loki smiled in that mocking way of his. "What makes you think I'll provide the answers you seek?"

Licking my bottom lip, I trod the steps to stand right in front of him. My heart faltered when our eyes met, but I pressed on, desperately shoving the feeling aside. "Why would you not? You hold allegiance to no one but yourself." I wanted to see a change in his expression, but there was none. "If you tell us all you know, we might be able to convince the All-Father to reduce your sentence... or to perhaps provide you with further comforts." Thor shot me a curious look, and I knew I was in no position to be making such arrangements. "At the least, I will try."

Loki scoffed. "Don't be so naive. Odin isn't quite as forgiving as you seem to believe." He drew closer, as close to me as he could possibly stand. "He would have had my head if it had not been for—" He broke off and averted his gaze. _If it had not been for Frigga_, he meant to say. "There is no boon you can offer. So I suggest you cease wasting your time and leave me to accustom myself to the silence I will reside in for the next many centuries."

My hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord, and clutched onto my pendant. The motion attracted his attention, and he stared at the crystal with certain longing. At least, that's what I wanted to believe. "Loki, please. We just want the truth," I said softly. "I wish to learn more about he who provided the Chitauri. I know it was the Mad Titan."

A smirk tugged at his mouth—one of those smirks that I could find endearing or infuriating. On this day, I found it infuriating. "You seem so certain, yet you haven't a clue as to who he is."

I lifted a brow. "Am I wrong?"

His smirk wilted. "Even if I told you everything, it would be of no use. You won't be able to stop him."

Heart dipping, I exchanged a brief look with Thor. "Stop him? What is he planning?"

"No, I rather like to keep you guessing." Loki took a step back. "You were always so much fun to toy with."

While I expelled a weary breath, Thor neared the edge of losing his patience. "Loki, if he is planning something—if he means for something terrible to befall any of the Nine Realms, I would have you tell us," he implored.

In response, Loki turned his back on Thor and paced closer to the table in the centre of his cell. He showed no sign of even intending to offer a reply—I didn't know why we ever expected one. I lowered my eyes and drew back. _Could things ever be as they once were?_ It was a question oft-repeated in my mind. Looking at him now, I realized it was an idiotic, fanciful notion. I had no choice but to extinguish that sense of yearning. It would've hurt too much otherwise.

"If you have no intention of helping us," I said, "then I suppose we shall be forced to seek him on our own."

My remark prompted him to face me. He made his approach, eyes narrowed, and seemed to consider his words before speaking. "Do you remember what I said about the Mad Titan?" he asked. I canted my head, uncertain. "When we descended into this dungeon to interrogate Nalak, I told you something before we spoke to him. Do you remember?"

The memory was vague, but I did recall Loki's frustration with both Thor and Nalak. And before that, he'd speculated about the one who sent the Dark Elves. The one we soon came to call the Mad Titan. "You said his might would be beyond even us," I replied. "And we would not be able to contend with the purveyor of such a force."

"I'll have you know that I was not wrong." Loki frowned, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than ever. "Do not seek him out. It is a fool's errand," he told me. "And an errand such as this would mean your death."

His warning surprised me, even if it shouldn't have. The fact that he'd given one made my eyes prickle with tears. _Stop it_, I rebuked myself. _Don't give in to false hope_. "You may not have care, but we do." Letting my hands fall to my sides, I shook my head. "He brings death to everything he touches. We cannot allow him and his many schemes to continue."

"Ever the hero." Loki glanced at Thor, though his gaze did not stray from me for long. "Your words are squandered, as I have nothing that can be shared about the Mad Titan that you don't already know."

Thor pressed closer, muscles taut. "But you know he's planning something."

"Of course he's planning something," Loki retorted. "He's always planning something."

I did not doubt that he could tell us something—anything—about the Mad Titan. "You must know more than we do. You've met him, after all. Why would you withhold information from us?" When he still refused to answer, I crossed my arms across my chest. "You spoke to him, did you not? You let him convince you to rule over Midgard. He persuaded you to retrieve the Tesseract for him."

His eyes flashed at that. "You think me so feebleminded as to be _manipulated_ by him?"

"No, I do not." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "But I do think, in your moment of weakness and solitude, he saw fit to influence your thoughts. And your actions."

With a frown, Thor glanced up and around the cell. "Even now, he holds sway over you."

For quite some time, I could not discern why Loki would seek to hide what he knew. There was no loyalty there; the Mad Titan did not inspire loyalty. _Only fear_. "You're afraid of him, aren't you?" I said. "That's why you won't tell us anything."

Loki lifted his chin a little, almost as if he'd caught himself flinching. His lips twisted into a smirk as he tried to hide it. "You've always trusted me, Eirlys," he said. "Trust me now when I say interfering with the Mad Titan will help no one."

As resolute as I tried to remain, my voice still shook. "Trust you? After all that you've done, I don't know how I could."

He stiffened and drew back a little more, but his eyes never left mine.

Silence blossomed between us.

"Eirlys." Thor placed his hand on my elbow, a gesture Loki surely noticed. "Let us leave him to his silence."

Silence. Centuries worth of silence in solitude. I knew in my heart that I wanted to say more to him. There were dozens of words that needed to be said—hundreds, even. Thousands. An incalculable number. But I couldn't seem to say a single one.

Gently, Thor tugged on my arm, guiding me away from Loki's cell. I wanted to protest, but there really was no point anymore. Loki was never going to tell us anything.

My heart sank further and further with every step we took. "What about the Mad Titan?" I glanced behind, catching a glimpse of Loki one last time before he disappeared from sight.

"Something tells me we will encounter him even without Loki's help."

* * *

The day's mood failed to grow any lighter.

Asgard's celebration of the soon-repaired Bifrost began at evenfall. I supposed it wasn't so much a celebration as it was the mustering of morale. With the link between worlds restored, the Asgardians aimed to undo the damage that had been done in their absence. It was of no surprise that copious amounts of drinking and revelling preceded battle.

To my misfortune, I found myself incapable of enjoying any of it when Loki sat at the forefront of my thoughts. It was worse now, since we'd paid him a visit. The knowledge that he might have been standing in the way of finding justice for Castien's death did little to help matters. For the past few months, I had feared that seeing Loki would resurrect those feelings of hope I once clung onto. But all I felt was sadness and a strange sense of... disappointment.

Numerous guests mingled throughout the grand hall. There was no dancing this day, for which I was grateful. As I wandered the vast chamber, I spied familiar faces among the revellers. Volstagg and Hildegund laughed over a cask of ale along with several others. Sif and Hogun were competing in a game of tiles, encompassed by dozens of onlookers. Fandral was off flirting with a pair of young maidens—new to the court, I presumed.

I halted in my tracks when I came upon a trio of maidens I never thought to see again: those I once referred to as the Simpletons Three. It appeared they were no longer maidens; each had been wedded and were presently accompanied by their husbands, or so it seemed. They laughed and smiled, delighting in something one among their company said.

My stomach flipped the moment I noticed that Brynlar was heavy with child.

She looked up at me then, brow cinched. I could tell that she recognized me, though her expression did not indicate whether she was gladdened or vexed by the sight of me. Perhaps it was neither. Lowering my eyes, I turned away in search of company that would soothe my chagrin rather than strengthen it.

It was not long before I reunited with Thor. He nodded to me in greeting but did not impart a word. He was one of few in the hall who didn't seem eager to engage in conversation. Nevertheless, courtiers and warriors alike approached, beaming at their prince and paying me little heed. I was the shade at his side, moving only to sip at my mulled wine, which had long since gone cold. He managed his smiles and amiable talk, though I sensed the distant threat of the Mad Titan lingered in his mind.

When two warriors—their names going unremembered by me—parted company with us, a strained silence descended upon us. As he had long been wont to do, Thor saw fit to fill the wordless air. "My mother told me the court wanted to hold a celebration when we first returned from Earth." He paused to take a horn of ale from a passing servant. The golden ring at the horn's rim gleamed in the firelight. "She did not feel it was... appropriate."

I cleared my throat. "After our conversation with Loki, it does not feel appropriate to me now..."

Thor gave me a sad smile. "I will not begrudge them their enjoyment."

The laughter and cheer sloshed over us in waves. Although the gathering was without dancing, the lack thereof was more than made up by the vast amounts of ale, wine, mead, and hard cider. Between the ebb and flow of the crowd, I watched as Sif stood from her seat at the tile table, throwing down a handful of game pieces. Across from her, much to my astonishment, Hogun grinned triumphantly.

When another challenger approached to take her place, she wended her way through numerous courtiers to join us. "I know not why I am ever under the belief that I can defeat Hogun at tiles." She sighed, accepting a goblet of mulled wine from a servant. "I would likely have better luck besting Volstagg in a drinking match."

I hummed. "More like you'd have better luck drinking yourself unto death before defeating Hogun in a game of tiles."

She gave me a sardonic look before sparing Thor an equally sardonic glance. "I see your humour has improved since this afternoon."

"I fear there is little for me to be cheered about," I replied, peering around the hall. "In spite of the varied attempts to make it so." Among the court, everything seem so... normal. If it hadn't been for the absence of Loki, I might've thought that this was seventy years ago; I was Frigga's apprentice once more, and we were indulging in the usual lavish festivities.

A glint of green caught my eye. My breath hitched before I realized the colour belonged to Amora. She neared, a flute of white wine balanced between her forefinger and thumb. Her smile was wide and bright enough to compensate for our sour moods. "Oh, come now, there's no need to look so forlorn," she said. "We are on the verge of realization. I would have the Prince of Asgard making merry before he must go to battle."

While Thor could not muster a response, Sif deigned to speak, "Amora, it has been many a year."

"Yes, it has," was the reply. Despite Sif's unrelenting glare, Amora graced Thor with a broad grin. "We have had scant occasion for festivity until this day. Eat, drink, find yourself in the arms of a fair maiden, my prince! An ill humour does nothing for the heart."

As though her cheer was contagious, the hint of a smile tugged at Thor's mouth. "Unfortunately, I have had little to revel in as of late."

"But you returned the Tesseract to us." Amora rested a hand on his arm before nodding towards me. "As did you, Lady Eirlys. Here, take a drink—take mine. Ice wine is difficult to procure, which makes it perfect for celebrating with." She took my cup of mulled wine and handed me her flute. "What you have done is no simple task. You should be proud."

I took a sip and savoured the cool sweetness on my tongue. Then I drank a little more, the warmth sliding through me, making my skin tingle, clouding my mind with surprising veracity. When Amora's jade green eyes met mine, my heart seemed to lift a little. "No simple task indeed," I said. "Loki is not an easy foe to contend with."

Her grin only grew wider. "Yes, he is a wily one. There are few sorcerers who can best me in battle, and he stands among them."

My brow furrowed. "You have engaged in combat with Loki before?"

"I was an apprentice in Asgard once, for a brief time," Amora told me. "Loki is a formidable ally and a dreaded enemy, yet he is not nearly as clever as he believes himself to be."

A graceless snort escaped me. It felt strange, but I didn't think twice about it. "I daresay he is not."

"Even with an army at his back, we were still able to best him," Thor boasted.

I gave him a curious look, watching as he downed the remaining contents of his drink. It was odd to hear him gloating about the battle on Earth. Seventy years ago, the Thor I knew would've bragged to anyone who dared listen. But now, it didn't sound right to my ears.

Before I could even think of speaking further, Thor gazed upon his drink and acclaimed, "This is the finest ale I have ever partaken of. ANOTHER!"

I all but jumped when he hurled his drinking horn at the closest pillar. The ivory burst into a dozen pieces, leaving drops of ale on the pillar and shards of white on the floor.

Amora laughed, the very sound of it abnormally pleasing to the ear. "My dear Thor, I think you've had rather too much to drink."

I smiled, albeit with some bemusement. I did not recall seeing Thor drinking much of anything since we arrived from the feast. And I knew from experience that it required large quantities of alcohol to influence one such as Thor.

Fandral, on the other hand, was obviously inebriated. When Thor was in the midst of procuring another horn of ale, the dashing warrior added himself to our little congregation, his mug of mead sloshing slightly at Sif's feet. She sighed but—to her credit—refrained from making scathing remarks.

"I think I might've been a little too brazen with that last maiden," Fandral chuckled. I took note of the large red handprint on his cheek. It would require more than a slap to the face to dampen Fandral's mood. "Amora! How lovely to see you. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your company since you returned."

"Indeed, I feel I have been robbed of our time together." Swooping forward, Amora bestowed him with a kiss to the cheek.

At this, Sif cleared her throat and tugged at my arm. "Forgive me, but I would have a private word with Eirlys."

"Oh? You would take the princess from us?" Amora remarked. Her twinkling eyes locked onto mine as she clasped my hand. "It was a delight. Perhaps we shall converse in due course."

I nodded, smiling. "Yes, later."

Neither Thor nor Fandral seemed to notice our departure, for they were too busy sharing in one of Fandral's lewd japes. _Just as well_, I thought wryly. _I have been subjected to an intoxicated Fandral enough to last me a lifetime_.

Sif and I slunk through the crowd of courtiers, making our way out onto the terrace. My chest constricted when we stepped outside, a flood of memories overtaking my mind for the briefest of moments: a green cape swaying in the breeze, blue-green eyes darkening in the candlelight, words of love that I thought about too often for my own good.

I slowed to a stop by the balustrade, trying my best not to think about the last time I stood here with him. To my left, Sif leaned back against the burnished bronze. "Of what did you wish to speak?" I asked.

"Nothing of note," Sif murmured, peeking through the terrace doors. "I simply could not withstand another moment in Amora's presence."

My brow cinched. "You take issue with Amora?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Perhaps my bias is born of an old dispute, but I mistrust her."

Curious now, I glanced in the direction of Amora to see her and Thor dissolving into laughter over something Fandral had said. "Whatever for? It appears she is able to lighten spirits wherever she goes," I remarked. "She is quite an amiable maiden. Reminds me a little of the Lady Freya."

The doubtful expression that shadowed Sif's features refuted my claim. "That is precisely why. Mere moments ago, Thor—and you—looked as though you lost the war on Midgard," she said. "Does it not seem odd that you both acted so differently the very second Amora graced you with her presence?"

I could not suppress a disbelieving laugh. "What? Are you suggesting that she's somehow... enchanted us?"

My reaction seemed to perturb her. "I have my suspicions," Sif replied, her tone calm and cool. "Her sister was well known for utilizing such enchantments on men. Enough to have her removed from the realm."

I frowned. "I have heard of such spells. They should not affect me."

She seemed to deflate a little. "But you must admit that Thor's frame of mind underwent a considerable change the instant she approached us in the hall."

Deep down, I knew she was right. It had occurred to me, not moments ago, that Thor was acting unlike himself. But, by some means, I could not assent to her reasoning. Since she first arrived, Amora had been kind and courteous, a sorceress to be admired. I could sense a great might in her. The strength of her magic did not compare to that of Loki, but it certainly surpassed my own. As powerful as she was, I doubted her enchantments could have an influence on Thor, let alone me.

"I... I don't know, Sif." Lowering my half-empty glass, I shook my head. "Has Amora ever done any wrong? You say her sister committed these offences. But she is not her sister."

Something about my remark must have struck her, for she dropped her gaze to the floor. After a moment's pause, she answered, "No, I suppose not. I should not have said anything." The smile she gave me was not much of a smile at all. "I bid you a good evening, Eirlys. I should like to retire early."

Unable to respond, I watched her march from the terrace and meld into the crowd. I lingered in her wake, bewildered by both her indignation and my inability to consider her words with proper rationale. _Amora could not have enchanted us. It cannot be done. Unless she found some way..._

Sucking in a deep breath, I rotated about to observe the sorceress who was still occupying herself with Thor and Fandral. Even from so great a distance, I could perceive Amora flirting with Thor. With a tender touch, she brushed her fingers along his large arms. She leaned close, her lips almost caressing his ear when she whispered something—some jest, most like, seeing as Thor burst into gales of laughter thereafter, his hands snaking around her waist.

My thoughts turned to Jane Foster. I wondered if Thor cared so little for her when she seemed to care a great deal for him. With the Bifrost near completion, he would have ample opportunity to see her again, something which he'd expressed interest in doing not long ago. Yet here he was, trifling with Amora like I'd never seen him do before.

Perhaps Sif was right. Yet, as I tried to reconsider her suspicions, my head grew clouded. I tried to blink away the disturbance—the strange sensation of a hundred bees buzzing around in my skull. Pressing a hand to my brow, I set aside my flute of ice wine. The world before me tilted. _Too much drink_, I chided myself. Deciding to follow Sif's example, I took my leave from the hall and retired when the evening was still young.

It was not until the dead of night that I found sleep. Even then, my sleep was plagued with nightmares.

I dreamt of snakes. Not just any snakes—jorgandrs. They slithered and coiled all around me, threatening to swallow me whole. Then I was running. Running through the deepening dark. They promised me a quick death, an end to all the pain. All I had to do was submit. Submit and give in once and for all. Anger overcame my terror, and I turned to face my pursuers. The last I saw was a wide jorgandr grin and jade green eyes.

In the light of the moon, I awoke, cold and shaking. My heart thundered, the sound of it so loud that I wondered if it were possible for anyone else to hear it. I brought my legs close to my chest and pressed my damp brow to my knees. Sleep had been scarce of late, and the little sleep I managed to find was often filled with nightmares, remembered or forgotten. I bit back the urge to scream out my frustrations in the silence. Instead, I flung my bedclothes aside and rose from my bed.

The marble was chilly beneath my bare feet as I crossed the bedchamber. Throwing on a dressing gown, I meandered into the corridor to begin my nocturnal wanderings.

The guards at my door had become accustomed to seeing me roam the halls while the rest of the realm slumbered. They nodded to me by way of greeting as I passed by, just as they did almost every night for months now. Most instances, I took to spending my sleeplessness in the library in the hopes that reading might pacify my mind. On this night, I found myself heading towards the healing room and its herb garden instead.

There were two healers in the chamber, neither I knew by name. They'd seen me often enough not to question my presence, so I strode past without a word.

The moons and stars were full and bright, basking the garden in a pale blue. It set the dreamfoil aglow, its leaves glistening and dancing in wind. As I approached the familiar flora, I came to an abrupt halt upon seeing another figure amongst the green.

In the daylight, her hair had looked like spun gold, but now it took on a haunting silvery sheen. Amora looked up and met my gaze, seeming rather unsurprised to see me. "You remain troubled, even in your dreams," she said with a knowing smile.

I returned the gesture, albeit halfheartedly, and stood at her side, peering over the squat sandstone wall to observe the churning waters below. "There is much that haunts me. I have lost people that I love—whether I have lost them to death or otherwise, I grieve all the same."

Her cheery facade withered faintly. "It can be difficult, carrying on after the Norns see fit to take the life of a loved one. But I know you'll find the strength to do so, just as I did."

The intimation startled me. "Oh... you have lost someone close to you?"

"Yes, many centuries past, my sister was... killed." Amora turned, sighing. "Her name was Lorelei. I lost her to a terrible accident."

My heart clenched. "You have my condolences, Amora."

"And you have mine," she replied. The smile she donned most often made its reappearance. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes, I noted. Sidling nearer to me, she touched a hand to my arm. Her fingers were unusually warm. "It must be especially difficult to see Loki as he is. I have heard of all the terrible things he's done. I admit I never thought him capable."

A strange fog billowed in my mind. My thoughts seemed to slow and voicing them became a trial. "Yes, it's... I miss him."

With her gaze boring into my own, she leaned closer. "It must be terrible indeed, for you to love him so, even in his madness. You would have it end, would you not? If you could?"

Where her skin touched mine, I felt a shiver run through me. An odd tingle spread up my arm, and the fog hampering my senses seemed to thicken. Through it all, I remembered what Sif told me, her warnings. Amora's spells. How could have her spells worked on me? _It was the wine_, I realized. _She put something in the wine to diminish my defences_.

Heart lodged in my throat, I tore my arm from Amora's grasp—a little too forcefully, if her half-second frown was any indication. The moment I stepped away from her, the haze lessened. "I apologize." I pressed a hand to my chest and felt for the crystal. "I—I believe I need my rest. I daresay I have been deprived of sleep long enough."

"Of course." Her smile resurfaced, frozen on her features. "I will not keep you any longer, Your Highness."

The sound of my honorific title was disconcerting, but I managed a smile. "I wish you a pleasant night."

As I turned my back to her, I could feel her staring after me still. That fog... the peculiar dimming of my wits could only be attributed to the influence of magic. I hadn't understood it before, during the celebration. I had assumed the mulled wine was taking effect, but I hadn't consumed enough to muddle my mind in such a manner. I was a blind fool not to recognize it. _I should have listened to Sif_.

With a shaky breath, I strode through the garden, my head held high with whatever dignity I could summon. I dared not look behind, though I could sense the shadow growing in my wake.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Boy, this chapter sure was a long one. I suppose, in a way, it makes up for the shortness of the previous chapter (or so I hope) :)

A big thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited/followed. To my beta, **Hr'awkryn**, another huge thanks as always. You're the best.

Please don't forget to review!


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